HOPE
by apenny12
Summary: Three years have passed since that fateful day at Grady Memorial Hospital and he still sees her. Blond hair and blue eyes haunt him every night while he sleeps and he knows he will never recover from the loss of her. When an unlikely duo appears in front of their gates, how will Daryl handle the girl in his dreams walking back into his life? Hold on…Pain Ends-H.O.P.E. *Post S5 MSF*
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**THANK YOU **Nicole, my wonderful BETA, for encouraging me to keep writing and support all the crazy ideas I throw at you! You're the best! XX

**A/N: THIS DOES INVOLVE INFORMATION FROM THE COMICS, BUT I HAVE CHANGED DETAILS AND SCENES TO FIT MY STORY**…So it should be spoiler free!

HUGE, _HUGE,_ **_HUUUUUGE_** thank you to **Sarakaroline8** and **Nicole **for putting up with in incessant questioning about the Alexandria Safe-Zone. You can only absorb so much from reading the comics once and they gave me so much insight on a topic I was completely unfamiliar with. After watching the MSF of season 5 I was so heartbroken (if you can't tell from my one-shot _A Memoir in the Apocalypse_) and then I found a wonderful post from **stydiaeverafter** on tumblr about the possibility of Beth surviving her gunshot wound. While I know this won't happen in the series…Beth is dead…I will happily live in denial and pretend the MSF didn't end Beth the way we saw. I HAD to make **stydieverafter**'s theory into a fanfic! So here we are! This story will take place AFTER the mid-season finale (MSF) of season 5.

I also wanted to give a quick thank you to all of my reviewers! You guys have been IMMENSELY supportive. I WILL finish Sometimes When Things Go Wrong… and I WILL begin working on For the Ones You Protect. Seems like I'm going to have to re-write season 5 the way it SHOULD have gone. However, with the lack of inspiration I had after last week's episode, getting that spark again from all the theories was a sign. I'm hoping that by writing this story it will help overcome my low spot so I can start writing my other stories again! Thank you guys for being so understanding! I hope I make all of you and Emily Kinney proud with this story! XOXO

...

Gasping for air, Daryl shot up from where he lay in bed, awoken from yet another nightmare. The dreams were generally similar as he cycled through different scenarios, but every night he would dream of _her_. He'd always be reaching out, trying to save _her_, but wouldn't get there in time. Sometimes she'd be swarmed by walkers, other times she was gunned down in front of him. In the worst ones, he'd be enveloped by darkness, seeing nothing in whichever direction that he looked, but he could hear _her_. He could _hear_ everything, but he was never able to find her. Tonight was no different. He could see her blue eyes, sharp and determined, and her blond hair flowing around her, but after three years he'd started forgetting the sound of her voice. While he hated his dreams, they were the only way he could hear her anymore.

There was a knock on his door and Daryl wiped his hands over his face before begrudgingly leaving his room to see who was calling on him at such an early hour.

"Dwight?" Daryl squinted his eyes as the sunrise cascaded across his face, "You got a reason t'be here at six in the fuckin' mornin'?"

"Rise an' shine man," Dwight smirked tiredly, "We got two people at the gates. Older man claims he knows Rick."

"Alright," Daryl said with a nod, "I'll be right there."

With that he shut his front door and grabbed his boots from beside the couch. Hastily tying the laces, he shrugged his crossbow over his shoulder and left his home.

It was a five minute walk to the front gates and the streets were empty as most were still asleep in their comfortable beds. Daryl wished he could have done the same, but he knew peaceful slumber would elude him so he declined the notion in favor of getting an early start to his day.

"They outside?" Daryl asked as he moved to stand beside Dwight.

"Yup," Dwight gestured to the group of men blocking their view of the newcomers, "Older man and a younger girl. They've been on the road a while."

Daryl nodded, understanding Dwight's subtle hint. Being on the road a while was the equivalent of 'they look rough, are packing heat, and should be considered dangerous until proven otherwise.'

A few years back they recruited outsider's to join their community. Aaron would follow a group to make sure they weren't raging lunatics and if they were deemed acceptable he would approach the survivors with an invitation to speak with their leader, who inevitably passed the final judgment. Aaron always had Eric close by to handle business if things went bad. It wasn't until the incident where Eric had been stabbed and his horse stolen that Rick ended the recruiting company, claiming it was too dangerous to continue. Now if outsider's happened to stumble upon their safe haven, they were interviewed at the gate. If they were approved, they were taken to Rick, who would decide whether they were allowed to stay. They were given a trial run for the first few weeks, not allowed their weapons during the initial period, and were monitored until they were no longer considered a threat. It wasn't a perfect strategy, but it worked for them.

"Bes' get this over with," Daryl grumbled, dropping his crossbow to the ground and knocking back a bolt.

He approached the guards, nodding to one of them as he held his crossbow firmly, and then they were moving out of his way and Daryl was able to see their visitors for the time. His breath caught in his throat and he had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't imagining what he was seeing.

In front of him stood a woman who looked to be in her late teens - early twenties. There was a dangerous air about her, accented by the seventeen inch blade that extended past her hand where she gripped the handle of the forearm machete that was strapped tightly just under her elbow. Her left hand rested on the pistol holstered around her hip while her stunning blue eyes watched him; clear and cautious. Her long, blond hair, much longer than he remembered, was braided and the ends brushed against the machete strap on her right arm. She had a scar on her right cheek and another across the left side of her forehead. However the most telling characteristic was the circular scar at the top-right side of her forehead.

Daryl wasn't sure when he had dropped his crossbow, but with the sudden wave of nausea that had him unsteady on his feet, he was grateful his hands were empty so he could brace himself against his knees. He felt dizzy, like the world was turning upside-down, and in a way…it had.

There in front of him, next to an older, black man, stood Beth Greene.

The same girl that had haunted his dreams over the past three years was alive and standing outside of the gates to his home. She had been shot…a through and through. Her blood had been on his lips…on Rick's neck…on his hands as he carried her. They had _buried_ her! He had dug her grave, Father Gabriel had delivered a eulogy while everyone mourned for her, and they had _buried her_! For her to be standing in front of him was…_impossible_.

"Daryl?" He felt Dwight's hand rest on his shoulder.

"How…" He pushed himself to stand upright, "How tha' _fuck_ are you here?"

He took a step toward them, but was stopped when her companion took a step slightly in front of her and raised his machete.

"Son," the black man began firmly, "We don't want no trouble. I jus' want to talk to Rick. We heard he was the leader of this establishment."

Dwight immediately raised his gun and pointed it at the duo, "Drop your weapon," he hissed.

Daryl's eyes never left the girl in front of him. He was slowly beginning to catch his breath, but the constricting ache in his chest refused to subside. Then she spoke and Daryl felt like his heart was going to burst.

"It's okay," she wrapped her free hand around her companion's arm and the machete slowly lowered back to the man's side.

Daryl was having a hard time keeping his thoughts coherent, but he needed answers. He needed to know how she had survived. He hadn't checked for a pulse, but she'd been _shot_ through the _head_ and her body had already grown cold before they had lowered her into the ground. He wanted answers.

"You were dead. I carried you down five flights of stairs and out of that hospital. You…you were _shot_! You were _dead_! I buried you…_we_ buried you…_how_…" he was beginning to hyperventilate.

Beth calmly stepped forward until she was standing in front of him. With a shaky hand, he tentatively reached out for her. The tips of his fingers ghosted over the scar of her bullet wound and grazed her cheek as he lost the strength to hold him limb in the air and his hand flopped back to his side. She was _real_.

Her eyes danced between his, but she said nothing.

He could taste salt in his mouth and felt a chill to the air that breezed against the wet streaks trailing down his cheeks. People were murmuring around him, but he couldn't make out their words. For the moment, it was just him and the woman he had thought he'd lost.

His eyes fluttered closed when she brought her hand up and wiped the tears from his face and he felt a sort of elation that had escaped him since that day at the hospital. He instinctively turned into her touch, relishing the warmth of her skin that was such a stark contrast to the last time he had held her.

Everything in the world was suddenly _right_. Beth was alive. _Beth was alive_! She wasn't dead and buried in the shallow grave they had managed to create for her. She hadn't been erased from this cursed planet. She was _alive_, and _breathing_, and _warm_.

Her hand fell away much too soon and he opened his eyes to take in the sight of her. Her golden hair glowed in the rays of the rising sun and he felt…complete. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her, ask the older man with her, but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

He could tell she was searching for something, but of what he could not say. However, one thing Daryl had learned in this cold, hard world was that things were _always_ too good to be true. Just as quickly as his world had righted itself, he plummeted from the high he had reached and the enchantment was shattered by the words that flowed from her lips.

"_Who are you_?"

**...**

**A/N: **Welcome to Denial-Land everyone! Population: The Bethyl Fandom (Need incentive? We have Worker's Compensation for actors who are abruptly axed from their shows without appropriate warning due to overall terrible writing and poor decision making by the big wigs!) Join today! ;^ P Lol

Chapter 2 will give more detail on the people mentioned here and life in Alexandria so if you aren't sure what Alexandria is about, don't worry! I'll fill you in! If you don't know what a forearm machete is (if you've ever played the BloodRayne video games, then you'll know what I'm talking about) then you can google it! They are AWESOME! It's very reminiscent of Merle's contraption after he lost his arm. It would probably be my weapon of choice should a zombie apocalypse ever _actually _occur!

So I took some liberties with the comic because the events of the T.V. have taken a different route. I'm convinced that Beth was killed in order to bring out Maggie's 'craziness' like happens in the comics. I don't' see them killing off who Negan really kills (in the comics) in the show, but I said the same for Beth…so who knows.

I tried my best to mesh the comics and the T.V. show together. For the characters still alive, I've taken what they're doing straight out of the comics. For those who are dead in the comics, I had to do the best I could to fit them into the community. Obviously certain events from the comics didn't take place (such as Morgan meeting with the group much earlier in the comics and going with them to Alexandria), but he's there all the same! I did my best to keep things 'fictionally realistic' and as most of you know, I'm a stickler for details, so I was very thorough with my research before I even began writing! I hope you guys enjoyed this! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**THANK YOU **Nicole for getting BOTH chapters edited in one day for me! You're amazing!

**A/N: **I am especially proud of this chapter! I kept it as realistic as possible so I hope you enjoy!

**.****..**

Morgan had been walking for hours, following the markers carved into the tree trunks that led him to some unknown destination. He was alone, as he had preferred to be back then. The weight of Duane's death haunted his every waking moment and invaded his dreams. No parent should ever go before their child, and yet it was Duane's own mother who had taken their son from him. So with nothing left, he'd begun to 'clear.'

After his encounter with Rick, he'd started to come back into his own. Rick had lost his wife, but he still had his boy, and he had taken in people at the nearby prison. The ex-sheriff deputy was trying to make a place in this world for people to live. _That _was something worth fighting for. However, when he had finally decided to accept his friends' offer to join them at the prison; he'd stumbled across the burned remains of a warzone.

He had taken a moment to bid his farewell to the noble man and his son, believing no one could have survived such a horrendous scene, and kept moving. Travelling for several miles he'd come across a map beside the railroad tracks that marked the location of a place called Terminus, thus he set his next destination. However, a few days later, on the last leg of his journey, he'd seen a sign marked '**NO** SANCTUARY.' At a loss for what to do next, he'd stood staring into the woods for an uncertain amount of time. It was while staring into the distance that he'd noticed the markings on the trees and with no end goal in mind; he was content to just keep moving.

He'd first come across what had once been an elementary school. Finding nothing of use outside the building, not bothering to enter in order to avoid hearing the ghostly echoes of children's laughter that his brain might conjure, he'd approached the doors and stopped in front of a dismembered walker. Crouching down by the once female human being, he'd deduced it was missing its lower half from being cut in two by the glass window as it had tried to climb through the opening of the sealed doors. He'd effortlessly jabbed the knife through its temple and then his eyes had searched the trees, finding more markings, allowing him to continue on his way.

His next stop was a fortified church. If the shattered doors and demolished front steps were any indication, their fortifications had failed. The bloodstains on the floor painted a picture of tragic deaths as yet another group or individual that had fallen to the walkers.

After a quick prayer, leaving the few items he'd been able to spare in an attempt to tithe, he'd smiled and laughed at himself for still believing 'the man upstairs' was looking out for mankind. As he stood he had noticed a tattered map on the floor. The moment he'd picked up the map, his entire way of life had changed.

Rick Grimes was _alive_…or he had been fairly recently.

The state of the church had him wondering exactly what had gone on in these four walls that would leave so much blood and a map with Rick's name written in the bottom corner abandoned on the floor. He'd frantically searched the interior of the church for any signs of life, that the group may still be nearby, but he found nothing.

Walking around the church, he had hoped to find a fire pit of some sort that might've given him more of an idea how long ago the group had passed through, but stopped his search when a distortion on the church caught his eye.

"You will burn for this," he'd murmured to himself as his fingers traced the words carved into the siding of the church, "We're _all_ gonna' burn for what we've done."

_Thou shalt not kill_ was a commandment he'd broken more often than not. He had wondered, one night when he was left with nothing but his thoughts, if killing walkers added to the list of death's he carried on his shoulders. Walkers were clearly _not _human…but they had been at one point. People died in some manner or another, and if they came back they craved the flesh of their fellow man, but what were these things that rose from the ground? Abominations was the only fitting term he could come up with, however, there had been plenty of _humans _he had considered monsters as well. Those were the ones he'd been forced to kill. It was either kill or die…or die and kill anyway.

Shaking himself from his thoughts he continued around the church when a spot of color in the tall, green grass caught his attention. After further inspection he'd realized it was a person and rushed over to help. It was only when he was upon them did he understand exactly what it was he'd seen.

A girl, no older than twenty, lay with her torso sprawled over the grass, buried from the waist down. By the looks of her, she'd been completely buried and in her reanimated state had managed to claw her way out. Pulling out his knife, he had squatted down next to the corpse, intent on ending it before it harmed anyone else passing by.

The small figured had groaned so loudly that he'd had to close his eyes to keep the overwhelming sadness of yet another young life lost to this cruel world at bay. In the same way he'd ended the walker at the school, he'd reached around, ready to press his blade through the creature's temple when it groaned once more.

"_Water_…"

He'd been so confused in that moment that he had literally just sat there; waiting to make sure what he'd heard had been an actual word and not some intangible gurgling.

"_Please…water…_"

Glancing up at the cross staked at the head of her 'grave,' he'd read the name _Beth_, carved into the right side of a tree limb. Next to it had been another grave, unmarked, with two sticks tied together with twine.

"I'm gonna' help you," he'd said quickly, "It's a miracle walkers haven't got t'you."

Then again, it was a miracle she was even alive, he'd thought while reaching into his pack. He had pulled out his only water bottle and gently lifted her high enough to be able to drink. It was that moment that had been forever burned into his memory. The girl greedily drinking the water he'd offered had been shot, a through and through if the blood in her hair was from an exit wound.

She was young, helpless, and left by her group, believing the girl they had placed in the grave to be dead. He hadn't blamed them. He, himself, had trouble believing she had _survived_. It was while he'd looked into her confused, unfocused blue eyes that he began to understand why he'd taken the path that had led him here.

He was _meant_ to find this girl; meant to _help_ her.

Glancing up at the sky, he'd furrowed his brows and gave a firm nod in acquiescence.

He would save this girl…he would save Beth.

…

She'd slept for days after he'd dug her out of the ground. Sometimes her pulse had been so weak, and her breathing so shallow, that he was sure she wasn't going to make it. He'd soon learned not to underestimate her. This girl was a _fighter_. With each breath she took, she continued to fight and every day that she had survived, his respect for her had grown.

He'd stayed at the church, having nowhere else to go that would be any safer, and nursed her back to health. The elementary school hadn't been pillaged and while searching the nurses' office, he'd found a few meager antibiotics for children no longer of this world and healing ointments that would help in her recovery. He had done all he could in aiding her recuperation, keeping the wound clean, bandaged, and administering whatever medications he could that were appropriate for her condition, but it had ultimately come down to sheer luck and Beth's will to live that had accounted for her survival.

Although once she had regained consciousness, he'd realized she hadn't come out of her injury completely 'whole.' For the first year or so, her speech had been slurred, but as time continued to heal her, her speech had gradually returned to what he'd assumed was 'normal.'

There was also her problem with telling right from left. She knew there was a _right_ side and a _left_ side, but her brain couldn't distinguish the difference. He'd also noticed how quickly her moods changed, as if she had no way to regulate how she felt. Not being from a medical background, he'd only been able to assume these issues were because of the internal damage she'd suffered from her wound. However, after two years, she'd learned tricks to telling the difference between each side and seemed to have her emotions under control.

She'd also had trouble moving around, unable to walk entirely at first, but she had refused to give up. After a few months of rehabilitation she had been unsteady on her feet and unable to make certain parts of her move the way she wanted, but after three years, she was fending off walkers and moving as quickly as he did. She had recovered so much that he trusted her completely to have his back.

If not for the circular blemish on her forehead, he would have never known she'd been shot, save for the fact that she had no memories. She didn't know who she was, where she'd come from, or who she'd been travelling with. He'd known her name was Beth only because of the courtesy someone had taken to mark her grave. She was able to create new memories, retain information, but anything that had happened _before_ her fateful encounter was lost. She still struggled from time to time, but she was probably as 'healed' as she ever would be.

Staring at her through the flames of their campfire, Morgan let a small smile cross his lips. She was an impressive one, this girl, and she had a stubborn streak like no other with an iron will to match. There were some days that he felt like _she_ had been the one to keep _him _going.

"When d'you think we'll reach D.C.?" She asked, completely oblivious to his reminiscent thoughts.

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he answered her quietly.

"You really think this 'Rick Grimes' person is still alive?" She raised an eyebrow defiantly, "It's been what? Three years since you found that map?"

Morgan gave her a flat stare, "Well if I hadn't stopped to help someone who had decided to crawl out of the grave they'd been put in, I'm sure I'd have already caught up with him."

She nodded and if she noticed his lack of answering her directly, she didn't comment.

A tense silence settled between them and Morgan knew she felt guilty. None of it was her fault. She'd been left for dead, albeit unknowingly, and he'd been the one to find her. He was convinced it was what he was destined to do, a sort of way to redeem himself for Duane's death, and he never once blamed her or resented her for anything. It was quite the opposite.

He'd decided to hold off on his trip to Washington until she was capable of taking care of herself. Staying at the church and then later moving around to other places after she'd been able to walk. In truth, he could have probably made for Washington a year or two ago, but he was no longer desperate to find Rick…or not find him. When he'd found Beth, she'd become his priority, and it was only because of her insistent nagging the past six months that he'd finally given in and decided to seek out his long lost friend…if he hadn't died in that church three years ago, which was another reason he was in no hurry to make the trip. He wasn't even sure if Rick Grimes was still alive.

"Hey Morgan?" She interrupted his thoughts once more.

"Yeah?" He looked up at her.

She was chewing on her bottom lip, a clear indication that she was nervous or upset.

"I'm sorry…for…ya' know…" she quietly apologized.

Guilt; that was the reason behind the lip chewing. She was feeling like a burden, as she often did when mention of their first encounter was brought up. She blamed herself for him not being reunited with a friend he was already sure was dead. He'd told her over and over again that he'd _chosen_ to help her and he could have easily ignored her pleas for help, but Beth was nothing if not considerate. She had a heart ten times the size of his and could be just as gentle as she was fiercely protective.

"Don't be sorry," Morgan firmly replied, "Don't _ever _be sorry."

Because just as much as he had saved her, _she _had saved _him_.

…

"I told you that you've got t'be careful," Morgan scolded as he removed the machete strapped to her arm in order to inspect the wound.

"I try, but it's kinda' hard to know you've been hurt when you can't _feel_ it," she argued.

Yet another long term effect from her brain damage was the loss of the ability to feel pain. She could feel sensations on her skin, touch, heat, cold, etcetera, but she couldn't respond appropriately to pain. It no longer existed to her. The discovery had been made last year when they'd been jumped by a guy intent on taking their belongings; believing an older man and younger girl to be easy targets. The man had managed to land a good hit on his face, knocking him off his feet, and just as their attacker had made the move to end him, Beth had jumped into the fray.

By the time he'd gotten back to his feet, Beth had been pinned to the ground with a knife aimed at her chest. The more disturbing part had been that Beth had fended his assault off by holding the blade of a knife as if she were holding its handle. She'd managed to knee him in the groin and trade positions, using the man's own weapon to ensure he wouldn't reanimate. She never flinched while he'd stitched the deep gashes in her hand back together and when asked; she'd said she 'couldn't feel a thing.' Her lack of pain during her recuperation suddenly made perfect sense, though he wasn't sure if her condition was a blessing or a curse.

"_You_ feel when you get cut," she went on to say, "_I_ just feel like I bumped into something."

They'd been searching through an abandoned house for supplies when she found a locked door. Locked doors always carried the prospect of untouched items inside so she'd busted the glass of one of the French doors and ultimately caught her arm on a remaining jagged shard while reaching through to unlock the door. It wasn't until Morgan noticed the trail of blood that was dripping down her arm that she'd realized she'd hurt herself…again.

"I know hun," Morgan sighed, "But that's why you gotta' be extra careful."

Beth stared at him for a long moment while he finished cleaning off the gash on her upper arm.

"I'll try t'be more careful," she said to him; her tone genuine.

"That's my girl," Morgan accepted with a smile, "You're good t'go. Let's get back on the road."

With a few useful items they'd looted from the untouched office, a letter opener, cigarette lighter, and a notepad to use as tinder, Morgan followed behind Beth as they exited the house and resumed their trek towards Washington.

…

They had woken up early and decided to get moving. If they made good time, they would be in Washington no later than noon, so long as they didn't have to take any more detours. While the line on the map was a straight shot, they had been forced to find alternate routes around the walker infested areas. They would have to go through a small part of Virginia to get back on track, but he felt like they were making good time, all things considered.

"Morgan," the tone of Beth's voice immediately sent up a red flag.

Looking up from the map Morgan could make out several walkers who had forced a man and woman into the bed of a dilapidated pick-up truck. He knew what she planned to do the moment he realized the stranger's predicament.

"Beth…now let's think this through," he tried as she unlatched her machete hooked to her pack, abandoning the backpack on the ground, and strapped her weapon around her arm.

They'd struck gold when they'd found her blade. Rummaging through the remains of a pawn shop, he had heard a racket, assuming walkers had entered the building, and rushed to the front where Beth had been scavenging. He was pleasantly surprised, if not a little shocked, to find her sifting through years old trash. He had been ready to question her when she'd pulled out a few weapons from the bottom of the trash bag. Someone seemed to have stashed them in the trash in the hopes of keeping them from being stolen, but by the stench in the fabric of the forearm machete, that person had long since abandoned their stockpile.

It had taken a few days of airing out to get the smell out of the material, but once the seventeen inch blade was attached to her arm, Beth had taken to her machete like it was an extension of herself. A uniquely shaped blade had caught his attention as well and he had soon found himself quite attached to his own weapon.

"Don't have time. You can sit this one out if you want?" She smirked over her shoulder.

It was times like this that he regretted how much time he'd spent working with her, ensuring she could defend herself, teaching her everything he had learned in regards to combatting the monstrosities, living and undead alike. After a year to heal and two years of constant sparring, she'd been able to pin him down more times than he'd care to admit.

With a relenting sigh, Morgan unsheathed the Kopis machete hanging from his hip. She _knew_ there was no way he would let her handle the walkers on her own, not because he thought she _couldn't_, but because he would do whatever it took to keep her out of harm's way.

"We flank them. Draw them away from the truck. You come to me if they start surrounding ya'. We stay back t'back if we get stuck," he said in an authoritative tone.

"Like we always do," Beth replied with a smile.

He had initially thought that as he and Beth cleared away some of the walker's, the man and woman would jump down and assist them taking out of the rest, however, it wasn't until they were knee deep in walker guts that they realized the pair in the truck were weaponless. They deserved to die for their stupidity, but Morgan knew Beth would never stand by and allow such to happen, and he would feel guilty knowing he'd ignored someone who was in dire need of help.

He kept her in his peripheral at all times, gauging the number of walkers purusing the streak of blond that bobbed and weaved between them. If they could get inside the bed of the truck, they could easily end the monsters from their height advantage. It would've been like shooting fish in a barrel, but the closer they got to the truck, the more walkers they attracted, and thus they were left luring the walkers away in order to behead them in smaller clusters.

He plunged his machete into the neck of an approaching walker. The idea had been to keep the oncoming monster at arm's length while he stomped the head in of a particularly stubborn walker he already sliced in half, now clawing at his feet. With the walker on the ground taken care of and the one in front of him pinned at the hilt of his weapon, he turned to check on Beth. Finding her nowhere in sight, panic began to ebb in his stomach as his eyes darted around where he had last seen her. A sudden pressure on the side he was turned away from immediately grabbed his attention and he found his target. Pressed with her back against his side, Beth was using the metal brace of her forearm machete to block the gnashing teeth that would likely have been taking chunks out of his arm had she not intervened.

Flipping the blade of his weapon over within the walkers neck, Morgan yanked his machete in an upwards direction, vertically slicing the walkers head in two. He then turned, keeping Beth's back in his chest to support the weight of the walker bearing down on her, and reached around to impale his machete into the side of the walkers head. The teeth chomping at her brace immediately ceased movement as the abomination dropped to the ground.

They didn't have a moment to appreciate the fact that they were both still intact, with more walkers heading their direction, but Morgan did take the time to note how thankful he was to have someone like Beth watching his back. After traveling and being alone for so long, finding Beth and the years they had spent together had changed him. He couldn't bear the thought of not being nearby to help keep her safe and he _definitely_ didn't want the silence that she filled with her witty remarks and relentless badgering about his wellbeing to return.

"That's the last of them," Beth remarked, stumbling over her feet a bit.

While she generally had complete control over her body, there were times such as these, after a particularly intense situation, where she reverted back to how she'd been a few years ago. He could only guess it was attributed to the adrenaline leaving her system and her brain trying to keep up with her commands because after she calmed down she would be fine.

Morgan placed his hands on Beth's shoulders, silently steadying her. Once she had nodded that she was 'okay' he allowed her to move from his grasp. She turned to the two people jumping down from the truck, faces expressing awe at the mass of undead bodies littering the ground, and addressed them in a flippant tone.

"You shouldn't use an axe," Beth commented from a short distance away.

"There weren't supposed to be this many walkers this close by," the man replied briskly.

Morgan smiled. He'd been on the receiving end of Beth's ability to emasculate the male gender and would have sympathized with the man if not for his detest of their stupidity.

She was struggling to yank the axe from where it had imbedded through a walker's head and into the ground, and in a thoughtless moment, he had moved to assist her. The glare Beth sent him had Morgan holding up his hands in mock surrender and remaining where he stood with an amused expression. After the third tug, she pulled the axe free of the earth and stepped over the bodies littering the ground to hand it to the man with her weaponless hand.

"What d'you mean there 'weren't supposed to be so many walkers'?" Morgan asked once Beth had settled beside him.

"Means the herders ain't doin' their job," the stranger's reply came out sounding bitter.

"Alex," the woman quipped beside him.

Morgan glanced down at Beth who gave him a look of confusion that mirrored his own.

"Herders?" Beth asked with a tilt of her head.

"It's fine Anna," Alex pacified, "We owe these people our lives."

"We don't know them," Anna said through gritted teeth.

Morgan watched the two bicker, wondering if he should be insulted for the two strangers not considering he and Beth a threat after they had witnessed them handle so many walkers. Then again, he supposed they just assumed them to be decent enough considering they'd stuck their necks out for them when they had no reason to help. They could have just as easily let the walkers have them and stole their possessions after the smaller herd had left.

"It's fine. You should thank them. If not for them you wouldn't be makin' it to see your beau," there was a teasing tone to Alex's voice.

"Leave Carl out of this," Anna focused her attention back on Beth and himself.

The name, Carl, suddenly struck a chord with Morgan. He _knew_ that name, but couldn't place why it was of such importance.

"We got us a few communities set up. They're walled…safe…people aren't just surviving, but we're thriving. Herders are in charge of leadin' the bigger groups of walkers away from the trade routes and the general population," Alex explained before continuing, "They interview people t'see if they're…_good._ If they can fit back into society. I can't guarantee they'll take you in, if you're lookin' for sanctuary, but if you tell Rick what happened here, he may give you a chance."

"Carl…Rick…" Morgan murmured to himself.

"We're on our way to Hilltop, but just mention that you met Alex and Anna and that should be enough to get Rick to see you," Alex elaborated further.

"Rick _Grimes_?" Morgan suddenly connected the dots, "Rick Grimes is alive?"

Alex eyed him skeptically before nodding, "Yeah. He's in charge of Alexandria. It's just a few miles down the road. You can't miss it."

Morgan took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. He'd been wrong, back at the church, when he had doubted if there was someone still up there who cared about them. Obviously Rick Grimes had him a guardian angel, his boy too, because for so long he had believed them to be dead. He held no hope that he would find the man who had been so lost and confused when they'd first met, just after things had went bad. He had thought that he and Beth would get to the location marked on their map, find it infested with the dead, and continue on their way.

"Looks like we're goin' to Alexandria," Beth's smile could be seen through the lilt in her voice.

"Looks like," Morgan replied contentedly.

…

Parting ways with Alex and Anna, Morgan and Beth had walked with greater vigor in their step, covering the distance to Alexandria in record time. After so many years on the road, he was finally going to reunite with his long-lost friend. He could finally help Rick the way Rick had helped him. He would be able to repay his debt.

Alexandria was a sight to behold. It was a few miles from Washington, located in Alexandria, Virginia, and he could see why people were surviving. The strong, intimidating walls seemed to reach the sky, protecting the houses within. The enormous metal gate was guarded by watchtowers and patrolmen. They were organized and a sense of security radiated from the community.

Approaching the walls, voices began yelling at them to stop where they stood, but Morgan felt undeterred. The smile on his face, marveling at what lay before him and how close he was to _finally_ finding a place that would keep them safe, reached all the way to his eyes. Beth however, hadn't seemed as enthused as she cautiously strapped her machete back on her arm. He knew it was more to give her a sense of security, but he felt as if they had nothing to fear. If Rick was in charge of this place, then these were good people.

Wrapping his hand around Beth's much smaller one, he gave it a gentle squeeze before stepping forward and addressing the men pointing guns at them.

"My name is Morgan Jones and I'm a friend of Rick Grimes. We mean you no harm. We've been on the road and just want to rest our feet," he said calmly.

One man in particular, one side of his face scarred and mangled, lowered his weapon and replied, "You know Rick?"

"I know Rick," Morgan nodded and felt his chest swell with satisfaction.

_They had finally caught up with Rick Grimes._

_..._

**A/N: **The line "Don't ever be sorry" is from season 3 episode 12 'Clear' when Carl apologizes to Morgan for shooting him. The line "…kill or die…or die and kill…" is from 4 episode 16 'Welcome to the Tombs' by the Governor to Milton in regards to making him turn so he could fulfill his order to kill Andrea. Just FYI : )

The Kopis machete is name for the style of the blade. Not an important detail but I get bored with the lack of imagination put into weapons sometimes. I'm a sucker for details!

Alex is from The Hilltop colony in the comics. Anna, also in the comics, originates from Alexandria.

Chapter 2 will pick up where the prologue left off! Backstory was necessary so we could understand the relationship between Morgan and Beth as it is presented to Daryl (and others). 3 years is a long time to be in only each other's company so Morgan has become a father figure to Beth, and she has filled the Duane sized hole in his heart!

_A few facts_…. Okay! So I felt it was more important to hear Morgan's perspective here because I honestly don't think Beth would have much of a 'thought process' in the beginning. Sleeping and healing wouldn't engage in much storytelling and we needed to know where Morgan had been to get him to finding Beth at the church. The story I depicted here is actually what happens to Morgan. Through snippets Kirkman has revealed and the two minute video (the full scene of what was aired at the end of the MSF…you can watch it on YouTube) I was able to get him from 'clearing' to finding Beth. I'm sure in the show they'll bury her somewhere outside of Atlanta, but according the map that Morgan finds, Atlanta is south of the church and the route Abraham marked is north…so he would have had no reason to go south to Atlanta, then back north past the church, towards D.C. Also…I didn't want her or Bob to be alone… : ( So I'm going with they went back to the church so she could be given a proper burial.

This is also going to be focused on outsider's perspectives on Beth (mainly Daryl's POV), but I will be having Beth's thoughts in appropriate scenes.

I did a **TON** of research on possible outcomes to being shot through the forehead. There are _a lot_ of variables such as exactly where the bullet penetrates, trajectory of the bullet, gauge of the bullet, and each person's individual ability to heal. People are in face capable of surviving being shot at point blank range, but they are never completely the same. From watching where Beth gets shot (and I could only bare to watch a few times) I guesstimated that she would suffer damage to her Frontal lobe and Parietal lobe (which would possibly cause the issues she has due to each lobes function). Now I am _NOT_ a doctor nor am I in the medical field, but after reading numerous websites, I learned that in some cases, the brain is capable of healing itself. I won't bore you with the facts, but it basically comes down to whether the neurons are able to create new passageways to replace the damaged ones because once one passageway is cut off, its gone…forever. At least that's my understanding. Therefore, everyone is different and it takes some people years (hence why I placed such a long time gap between the MSF and #Team MorBet…couple resist! The name made me chuckle…getting to Alexandria) to get to a point where they can function normally, if ever at all. Taking into consideration that THIS IS FICTION, I tried to keep it as 'realistic' as possible, having Beth come out with internal scars that will never heal, while essentially keeping her character intact. I would've loved to have made her completely fine…but realistically she wouldn't be and there's only so much you can do before a story becomes too farfetched. I worked really hard on this so I'm hoping what I've imagined here is to everyone's satisfaction. I certainly hope it's better than that garbage Kirkman and Gimple fed us. -_-

So please let me know! I have no idea how long this story will be, but it pretty much depends on the kind of response I get! So spread the word and get #Team Morbet going! LOLOL! Hope everyone is recovering from the MSF and if not, I hope this lifts your spirits a bit! XOXO


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**THANK YOU **Nicole for editing and urging me to post this! I was having a moment of being...too self-critical and she was as encouraging as ever! Thank you love!

**A/N:** So I've discovered one thing about tumblr…with so many posts made in the Bethyl tag, I don't know how many of you who follow me actually SEE what I post (fanfiction wise anyway). So I'm going to link my Twitter account on my profile page. If you want to add me, feel free to do so! If I get a decent number of followers, I'll post chapter updates and such on tumblr, but I'll post more in twitter so you guys can interact with me more! I only use twitter to follow Norman Reedus, Emily Kinney, and some people from _The 100 _show anyway so I'll be getting better use out of it by posting updates!

…

Morgan watched the scene before him with rapt concentration. While he hadn't believed anyone would outright attack them, the man's initial reaction to Beth had caused him concern. It was obvious that this crossbow-wielding stranger knew her from _before_, having said he was there when she was buried, but he wasn't sure what to make of the intensity in which the man was responding to her presence.

Beth hadn't had any qualms with approaching him either. After travelling with her for three years, he'd seen her respond to strangers on numerous occasions, but _this _was something he'd never experienced. With her having been stripped of everything that had made her…_her_; no past experiences to base her decisions on, no memories of how she'd been raised, no idea who she was as a person, he had seen her struggle to come to terms with who she wanted to be.

While she never thought twice about helping those in need, she asked him to do the talking if they crossed anyone in their travels. She didn't trust easily and always had her weapon ready in case the deal went wrong. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to wake in the middle of the apocalypse and come to believe this world was the norm. She couldn't remember what electricity or television was like, didn't know how it felt to take a hot bath with running water in a cozy home, she had no memory of what the world was like before the dead rose and began feasting on the living.

How could she trust when the world she knew was full of death and darkness? Beth had only trusted him because he had nursed her back to health and taught her how to take care of herself. He had been there when she had begun making new memories. Morgan had been a constant.

She knew her name was Beth, she knew she had a scar on her wrist, her cheek, and two on her forehead, but no idea how she had gotten them. It was obvious she had been buried by someone she had been traveling with, but beyond that she'd had to reestablish herself. He knew she had to wonder what she had left that was worth fighting for. Besides the obvious, what was the point? _Why_ did she fight so hard to survive? He had wished he had the answers for her, but the sad truth was that he didn't know Beth any more than she knew herself.

While he may not have known Beth _before, _he knew her _now_. For her to approach this man in such a way had Morgan utterly perplexed. He wasn't a psychologist or a doctor, nor did he have any medical training beyond the basic first aid he had taught himself, therefore he could only speculate the effects brain damage had on a person. It was a romantic concept, but maybe, deep down in her heart of hearts, she knew this man even if she had no memories of him? It was the only explanation that could explain the instant connection he had seen between Beth and the man standing in front of the gates.

"Who are you?" Her voice broke his thoughts and Morgan watched the man's face fall.

Immediately feeling the need to shield her, Morgan stepped forward and stood near Beth, speaking on her behalf.

"She doesn't remember anything," he began, "Everything from before she'd been shot is…gone."

The man's deep, blue eyes glared at him and Morgan couldn't decide if he was angry or hurt. He assumed probably both.

"Nothin'?" He spat.

"I know her name 'cause it was carved on the cross markin' her grave," Morgan explained.

The stranger didn't respond and stared down at his feet.

"She's remembers everything after she woke up, but…nothin' before," Morgan felt compelled to add.

Morgan could see the muscles in the man's jaw tighten, but he remained quiet.

"Did…did we know each other?" Beth hesitantly asked after several moments of silence.

"Yeah…" the reply was barely audible, "Yeah, we did."

Morgan had envisioned this moment so many times, finally finding someone who _knew _Beth. Someone who could fill in the gaping hole in her memory, but the vision had always been under much happier circumstances. He had pictured Beth breaking into a huge smile and they would have a celebration of sorts. However, the melancholy way in which she'd gotten answered dampened the mood and Beth only nodded mutely. There were no smiles and it was the polar opposite of a 'happy moment.'

"Dwight," the man yelled while stepping back and picking up his crossbow.

"Yeah," the scarred man who had greeted them reappeared.

"Go tell Rick we got some visitors," he said before turning to face them once more.

The scarred man, Dwight, gave a firm nod and trotted inside the walls of Alexandria.

"You never told me your name," Beth reiterated.

"Daryl," he said while sliding his crossbow over his shoulder, "Daryl Dixon."

Morgan noticed the furrowing of her brows, a habit she performed when she was committing something to memory.

"This is Morgan," she gestured, "He's the one who found me. I owe him my life," she smiled at him fondly and Morgan couldn't help but smile back.

When he turned his attention back in front of them, he was met with that same penetrating gaze.

"Morgan Jones," he extended his hand toward Daryl.

After a moment Daryl took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Morgan could tell the man still had suspicions, but he didn't blame him. There were all sorts of people in the world now. It was always better to be more cautious of strangers than to welcome them with open arms and naivety.

"And I guess you know who I am," Beth shifted from one foot to another.

"Yes…I do," Daryl's gaze softened when he turned his attention to her.

Daryl continued to stare at Beth, who kept shifting in obvious discomfort at being focused on so intently, until Dwight returned to the gates.

"Hey man," he said to Daryl, "Rick should be in the meeting room. He said to bring 'em up whenever you're ready."

Daryl nodded and spoke to the two of them once more, "You don't need yer' weapons here."

Morgan sheathed his machete, but noticed that Beth hesitated. After a brief moment, she began unstrapping the band around her arm and tucked her weapon away. Once her weapon was deposited, Daryl motioned for them to follow him inside.

They entered the gates and it was like entering an entirely different world. There were remnants of streets that had turned into dirt paths leading every which direction, flowers growing in window seals, toys in semi-groomed front yards, and horses could be heard 'neighing' in the distance. There were orchards and rows of crops growing from the ground, while the livestock were kept safely in pens. The blades of a large windmill could be seen rotating over the roofs and the smell of baking bread filled the air as they passed by the fully intact houses lining the road. It was more primitive than _before _things had gone to hell, but it was the closest thing to civilization there had been in years.

"This is what it used to be like," Morgan said to Beth who was absorbing everything in sight.

"This is…" she began.

"Paradise," Morgan finished her sentence with a wry smile.

"I've never seen anything like this before," she caught herself, "Well…I don't remember anything like this anyway."

Morgan saw the discreet look Daryl threw over his shoulder at her remark, but neither man made a comment.

"So how does it work here? How do you keep this place going?" Morgan asked instead.

For a moment it seem like Daryl wasn't going to answer, but then he stopped and rounded on them.

"We've all got jobs to do," he said directly to Beth who returned his stare steadily. There was a moment of silence and then Daryl's gaze moved to Morgan, "Everyone gets assigned a job dependin' on what skills you got. We got agriculture, security, supply runners, herders, and everythin' else in between."

"How d'you know who to trust?" Beth's tone neutral, but Morgan caught the look in her eyes.

It wasn't so much a challenge as it was that she felt skeptical. They had been through a lot on the road. They had seen a lot and done much more than any young girl should ever have to endure. It hadn't taken Beth long to lose the naivety that she'd had after she'd first awoken, quickly discovering that while the dead were to be fought; it was the _living _they should fear the most.

"Rick will explain tha' process t'you ," he looked from Beth to Morgan, "If what you say s'true."

Morgan caught the subtle stab that Daryl was making it clear he was on the fence in regards to Morgan actually knew Rick or not. Morgan had never seen the man with Rick the few times they had encountered each other after the initial epidemic began so he didn't blame Daryl for not taking him at his word.

The continued walking through the community and Morgan smiled as he watched Beth's eyes dart from one place to another. This _had_ to be a good thing. If Rick was leader, then it _had _to be a sanctuary, because if it wasn't…Morgan felt his smile falter. If this wasn't _good _then he wasn't sure there was any hope left for the world.

Entering the building behind Daryl, Morgan glanced over his shoulder to make sure Beth was still tagging along. Her eyes were hard and he knew exactly what she was doing, it was something he had taught her; finding as many ways to escape the room as possible in case things went bad.

"Alright. I expect the reports brought t'me tomorrow," Rick's voice sounded within the room.

A woman quickly exited, flashing a smile, and then Morgan turned his attention to the man he'd been trailing the past three years.

"_Morgan_?" Rick's voice sounded shrill with disbelief.

"Rick," Morgan stepped forward and extended his hand toward the clean shaven man, "It's been a long time."

He couldn't describe the elation he felt seeing the friend he'd believed to be dead, standing before him with that same serious expression. It was surreal and familiar all at once. There were feelings and emotions flowing through him that he hadn't felt since Duane's death. He even felt himself blinking a few times to keep the welling emotions from spilling down his cheeks.

"I'll be damned," Rick's voice shook and he ignored Morgan's hand, reaching around to embrace him, "You're either tha' toughest or the luckiest son of 'ah bitch I know."

As soon as Rick was able to see over his shoulder, Morgan felt every muscle in his body tense, and he knew that they had indeed found the group that had buried Beth.

…

Daryl watched the brief reunion from the corner of the room. This…_Morgan _had been telling the truth, from the warm welcome Rick had given him. Once he had the confirmation he needed, his eyes zeroed in on Beth. She was standing closer to the door, obviously uncomfortable being confined in the room, but she seemed to relax a bit when Rick acknowledged Morgan.

It was only a few moments later when Rick noticed her and the older man's eyes cut to Daryl's with the same expression he had probably held on his face at the gates; sheer disbelief.

"Beth?" Rick's voice was barely above a whisper.

Morgan then stepped aside to let their leader approach the girl who looked identical to their fallen family member.

"This is…what…" Rick looked between Beth, Morgan, and Daryl, "_How_?"

"I found her," Morgan spoke up, "nursed her back t'health."

Rick seemed to have the same problem as Daryl had earlier in regards to their equilibrium as he leaned back on the desk to brace himself.

"How is this possible? She'd been shot…at point blank range. She was _dead_…_wasn't she_?" Rick was pleading with him and Daryl had to look away.

He was still in a place of denial. Daryl had been so certain he would never see Beth again. That she was dead and gone forever. To see her standing in the same room as them, breathing the same air, and just…_existing _made this all seem like some sort of new twist to his ghoulish dreams.

Rick pushed off of his desk and stepped forward to envelope her in a hug. His words rushing from his lips and Daryl could barely make out, "Maggie is never going to believe this."

Within seconds Morgan was squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. Rick released his grasp and sent a questioning glance between Morgan and Beth.

"…Maggie?" Beth spoke for the first time since entering the room; clearly uncomfortable from the hug by the way she kept her arms locked by her side.

"Your sister…Maggie," Rick spoke slowly.

The room was eerily tense.

"She don't 'member us," Daryl tried to keep his voice steady as he stood from where he'd been leaning; taking in Beth's guarded expression.

"What do you mean she doesn't remember us?" Rick quirked an eyebrow.

Morgan and Beth exchanged a look. When the older man nodded, Beth turned her attention back to Rick.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest. Several years ago it had been him that she looked to with unwavering trust…and he had let her down. He had opened the front door to the mortuary without a second thought, and brought all of this upon them. What he wouldn't give to be able to go back and just _not open that door._ If he hadn't used that dog as a way to escape the tense atmosphere growing between them at the table, then she would've never been taken. If he hadn't run from her, she would never have been at that hospital where she'd been shot. If he'd been more of a man and answered her properly, she would still remember him.

"I don't remember much from when I first woke up. The only memories I _do_ have involve _him_," she spoke evenly while gesturing to Morgan.

The ex-sheriff deputy turned leader's expression held that far off look that Daryl recognized as an attempt to mask the true turmoil raging inside. Stepping forward from where he'd been leaning, he moved to stand next Rick. It was obvious that he felt just as dazed as Daryl had and he could only imagine how overwhelmed Beth must have felt from all of this new information.

He glanced at her, standing close to the door, looking like she was ready to flee at a moment's notice. Her shoulders were rigid, her lips were barely visible from the way she was biting them shut, and her eyes stayed focused on either himself or Rick. Morgan had remained rooted in place, splitting the distance between Rick and her, however he too seemed to notice that Beth's edge returned the moment Rick had hugged her.

"How'd…" Rick seemed to have gathered his thoughts as he cleared his throat, "How'd you two find us?"

"I found a map, 'fore I found Beth, inside a church," Morgan pulled his backpack around and dug through the items inside, "It had a route marked to Washington. We were headed there when we ran into Alex and Anna."

"They were headed t'Hilltop," Daryl announced to Rick.

Rick nodded and turned back to Morgan, "They alright?"

"Yeah, thanks in no small part to Beth," Morgan sighed amusedly, "Crazy girl."

Daryl picked up on the not-so-subtle attempt to reengage Beth in the conversation, but it was apparent with how tightly her lips were pressed together that she wanted no part.

"They ran into a smaller herd. Your boy, Alex, got his ax lodged in the ground," Morgan went on to explain, "They were in the bed of 'ah pick-up truck, weaponless, when we found 'em."

"Thank you," Rick gave a stern look and nodded, "Thank you for goin' out of your way t'help them."

"Beth didn't give me a choice," Morgan chuckled, "She jumped in and had a few of 'em sliced down before I even had tha' chance to come up with 'ah game plan."

"Guess some things are still tha' same," Daryl gave a wistful smirk.

"I was jus' doin' what needed to be done s'all," Beth replied smoothly.

The phrase resonated with Daryl. It was a motto that he'd come to live by even _before _the apocalypse. There were some things in life that just _needed to be done _because either no one else had the courage to follow through or it was only something that his skill set allowed.

"So…" Morgan's voice cut the tension in the room, "How does this place work?"

Rick stood and Daryl recognized the change in his posture. _This _Rick was the leader of Alexandria, in charge of a little over a hundred lives, and ready to do whatever needed to be done to keep his people safe.

"Usually we interview our newcomers, which includes three specific questions as well as inquiries pertaining to their background, to get a feel for 'em. We have a few that are good judges of character and they help conduct the interviews. All of those new to our community are given a trial run and their weapons are confiscated for a few weeks, until we know we can trust them. I make the final decision on whether someone is suited for our…_lifestyle _or not. Those who don't cut it are banished from the community and sent back out on their own. Those who are allowed to stay are afforded jobs in accordance to their skills," Rick summarized the gist of how Alexandria functioned, "We have laws and a jail for those who break them, there's 'ah church run by Father Gabriel with weekly services, a bakery, crops and livestock, water system, people in charge of keeping tha' herds away from the walls, and we even have trade routes set up between the other safe zones. It was rough gettin' it started, but we've got 'ah pretty smooth operation goin' now."

"This is the best news I've heard in years," Morgan's smile reached all the way to his eyes.

"So you're interested in becoming a part of our community then?" Rick asked with a soft chuckle.

Daryl watched Morgan's face fall and doesn't understand the sudden melancholy until he hears Morgan's question.

"What d'you wanna' do Beth?" The older man turned his gaze from Rick to the girl behind him.

Beth's eyes went from Rick, to him, and finally land on Morgan. Daryl could feel her gauging her companion and then her eyes suddenly snap back to Rick.

"So you're sayin' we'll be without our weapons for a few weeks?" She inquired incredulously.

"We have protocols," Rick responded, "and I'm obligated to abide by them. However, the situation with you guys is different than the rest. I invited Morgan to join our group long before we reached Alexandria and you…" Rick's gaze landed on Beth.

"I vouch for 'er," Daryl interrupted.

Beth's eyes locked with his and he could see the uncertainty filtering across her face.

"Well there ya' have it," Rick smirked and continued, "You've both _always_ been a part of our group. Due t'extenuating circumstances, it took you two a lil' longer t'get here than the rest of us, so I think keepin' your weapons for the next twenty-four hours will be plenty enough. You're not _strangers_…you're _family_."

Daryl felt Beth's scrutiny as she analyzed them. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, having her look at him and not knowing him. Had he been the same person he was before the prison, he was sure he would have already flipped out on her, but he had grown into his own and refused to give her any reason to distrust him.

"Beth?" Morgan spoke softly.

Daryl knew the moment she gave in and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

"What're the three questions?" Beth asked while she reached to the back of her pack and unclasping her machete.

Daryl stepped forward, taking the weapon, and also the initiative to begin the interview, "How many walkers you killed?"

"Dunno' about before," she answered derisively, "and I honestly can't say I've kept count since I came to. We killed a couple dozen just a few hours ago."

"How many people you killed?" Daryl asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Three," she replied unblinking.

"_Why_?" Daryl hissed the final question.

"One was to defend him," Beth nodded to Morgan, "and two were defending myself."

Rick began asking Morgan the same questions behind them, but Daryl was too focused on Beth to comprehend what the answers were. He had just learned that the Beth he knew, who had been innocent of the living's blood on her hands, was no more. The thought made him ill. If she had been with him, her hands would still be clean, but he had buried her and left her in a shallow grave with nothing but her name carved into two twigs he'd tied together.

"Why did you vouch for me?" She probed while staring up at him.

It was such a surreal feeling, staring at her electric blue eyes and remembering everything they had been through, but knowing the eyes staring back at him had no recollection of anything…of him.

"Regardless of what you remember and what you don't, the Beth Greene who'd been with us was good. She was better than tha' rest of us," Daryl admitted softly.

"Greene?" She tested the name on her tongue, "So my last name is Greene."

She hadn't even known her last name. She _truly _didn't remember _anything_. She didn't remember how much her father had loved her, cared for her, doted on her. She didn't remember caring for an infant child, raising her as if she were her own, and singing to her as she paced the concrete floors of the upper level in their prison-home. She didn't remember her bossy sister or her overprotective brother. She didn't remember eating mud snakes and drinking moonshine. She didn't remember the hug that ended their argument and the fire that warmed their backs as they wiped their slates clean. She didn't remember their unfinished conversation. She didn't remember anyone…she didn't remember _him_. Daryl felt as if he'd been physically punched. His anger burned through his veins and he knew a trip outside of the walls would be necessary after their meeting was over in order to alleviate some of his bitterness.

Beth just continued to stare at him with a crinkle in her brows.

"I've killed four men," Morgan's voice flitted through the air.

Beth moved, snapping Daryl back to the present when she bent down and pulled at the heel of her boot, producing a three inch, single sided razor blade.

"The Beth you knew then, and who I am now…I don't know if they're even remotely the same," she informed while pulling the knife from the sheath on her hip.

Daryl wasn't sure how to respond to her statement, so he didn't. Instead he allowed his eyes to trace the scars on her face and the new ones that were scattered on her arms and hands. Everywhere that had been soft had a much sharper edge, but her eyes still held the same kindness he had grown to cherish.

"Alright," Rick's voice broke Daryl's thoughts, "We'll get you guys to Sherry tomorrow and we'll get you your weapons back and set you up with a job. For now, you'll bunk in the mess hall until we can get you a place sorted out."

Daryl took the weapons he was holding and deposited them in a metal bin that lined the walls behind Sherry's desk, leaving Rick to escort Morgan and Beth to their temporary quarters.

Beth and turned and walked out of the room without giving him a second glance. Everything about her was so familiar, but she claimed to be a different person than the girl he remembered. Daryl wasn't sure whether he was heartbroken by the fact that _his _Beth was really gone forever, or blessed to get a second chance with a girl who had come to mean so much to him. It was very confusing.

"Daryl?" A woman's voice cut through the room, "You okay?"

Daryl turned to see Sherry, returning to her office from gathering the reports Rick had asked for earlier.

"Yeah. Fine," he lied.

"Those the weapons of our guests?" She inquired while looking at the forearm machete he was handling with great care.

"They're not guests. They're family," Daryl corrected her; shoving the bin back into its slot.

"Oh," Sherry nodded, "I'll be sure to remember that."

"Thanks," Daryl said curtly, turning to leave the room.

"Hey!" Sherry called out, causing Daryl to pop his head back in the room, "Don't forget you're supposed to have dinner with Dwight and me tonight. You skipped out last week. No excuses."

Daryl sighed, knowing that getting on Dwight's wife's bad side wasn't a wise decision, "I'll be there."

Daryl had no intention of going. He would come up with some lame excuse and spend the rest of the day outside of the walls, killing as much wildlife as he could. He had so many things he wanted to ask Beth, but no idea where to begin. He wasn't good with 'making friends' and he wasn't sure Beth cared to try to get to know him again. That thought disturbed him more than anything else.

"We're inviting Beth and Morgan," Sherry called from the other room.

Daryl paused, sighing in resignation because he knew he would in fact be cutting his hunting expedition short, "I said I'd be there."

Daryl marched out of the office and shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight. The streets were now bustling with people going about their daily routines and Daryl took a calming breath. If they had managed to rebuild society, give these people a second chance at _life_, he could figure out a way to start over with Beth. Even if she wasn't the same, even if she had new scars and was rougher around the edges, she was still Beth. She was worth it and he would do whatever it took to make things right between them, or as right as was possible in their circumstances.

_This was his second chance at life with Beth._

...

**A/N: **I had A LOT of trouble with this chapter. It's very hard to write Beth because at this point...I want her very indifferent to everyone except Morgan. She has no relationship with anyone else, but everyone else feels like their seeing a ghost. So the reunion with Rick had me stuck for DAYS! Literally...days! I didn't want his reaction as strong as Daryl's, but I wanted there to be this disbelief that Beth was standing in his office. Even though we didn't see a lot of it on screen, but I'd like to think Rick and Beth had a bond through her caring for Judith. So I hope this is up to your standards...some reassurance would be nice. I really stressed over this chapter. You can thank Nicole for me posting tonight, because I honestly could have tinkered with it another week...


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**THANK YOU **Nicole for editing this so I could post it today!

Yay! Early chapter! This is my **gift** to you guys!I hope everyone has had a **Merry Christmas** (or whatever other holiday you celebrate!) and your day has been filled with joy, love, and lots of good food! I love you all and thank you for always being so amazing!

**A/N: **Big shout out to** Sarakaroline8**! She has a story called "Many Hearts to Tread" based on Sherry and Dwight surviving the apocalypse and Negan. I've read some of Dwight in the comics, but there's just not a whole lot of info about them. Thus I'm heavily basing MY Dwight and Sherry off of the characters in her story! Dwight and Sherry's backstory, last name, and personality are all thanks to **Sarakaronline8**! Thanks for letting me borrow them love!

…

Morgan had been watching Beth since their meeting. She hadn't spoken much, only giving one word answers when he'd asked her something, but he knew she needed to talk about what had happened. They had found people who _knew _her, from _before_, and her reaction had been nothing like he had expected.

"Beth," Morgan breathed.

"Hmm," she hummed in response from where she lay on her bunk above him.

"You wanna' talk?" He inquired gently.

"'Bout what?" Her voice ringing with nonchalance.

"'Bout what?" he grumbled under his breath, "About what happened earlier," he spoke clear enough for her to hear.

"What's there t'talk about?" Her voice quiet.

Morgan stood from where he sat below her on his mattress and turned to lean his arms against the frame that held her bed above his. She was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, with her arms folded neatly behind her head. She looked so lost, so unlike the confident Beth he had come to know, and it unnerved him.

"Listen hun. I've felt _more_ than my fair share of heartache and I have t'live with the choices I've made," he watched as Beth turned her head to him, eyes shining brightly. Knowing he had her full attention, he continued, "In life…especially this one, we don't get second chances. We get split second decisions and most of 'em can get ya' killed. We have t'live with the consequences of those decisions and we're left dwellin' on tha' what ifs when things go bad. Some people may say they don't have any regrets, but the rest of us…those of us who've fought and struggled t'survive…we feel our guilt every time we open our eyes."

She sat up on her bed and scooted around to face him; blinking her eyes and furrowing her brows in concentration as she listened.

"You may not remember nothin' from _before_, but tell me," he smiled at her, "Do you regret anything? Anything at all from tha' past three years we been together?"

Beth sat stone-still and he could envision every scene playing through her head, every life she'd had to take, and every time death had very nearly taken her.

"No," she said firmly, "I have no regrets."

"Then don't start makin' them now," Morgan smiled wider, "Talk to 'em. Find out about yourself. They're the only ones who can answer all the questions we both know you have."

Beth took a deep breath, "What if…what if I'm nothin' like who I used to be? What if forgetting everything was a _good_ thing?"

Morgan stepped back and cross his arms over his chest, "Ain't no way that man with the bow…what's his name…," he paused, before nodding once, "Daryl. Rick too. Ain't no way they'd be _that_ happy to see someone if they weren't 'ah good person. "

"That's easy for you to say. You didn't know me _before_," Beth scoffed.

"True," Morgan nodded his head several times, "but I know you now."

Beth breathed out through her nose and smirked.

Reaching a hand out, Morgan helped her climb down from the top bunk, "You at least think about it?"

"Yeah," she replied, "I'll think about it."

"Good deal," he patted her head, "Why don't we do some lookin' around before dinner? We got invited to Ms. Sherry's house tonight. They want to give us a proper welcome. Said you have a few more people t'meet."

Morgan moved to walk past her when he felt a tug. Looking back, Beth was holding the hem of his army green jacket within her fist. Her head was bowed and her knuckles were white from how tightly she was holding onto the material he was wearing.

"Thanks Morgan," her voice tight, "For everything."

Morgan reached out and replaced his hand on top of her soft, blond hair and gently replied, "Always."

…

Daryl sat in his handmade deer stand, high above the ground, staring into the distance. The limbs of his crossbow were touching the plywood floor as he rested his chin against the rubber recoil pad on the end of the stock. He'd been sitting there for several hours if the sun was any indication of the passage of time.

The day had been…preposterous. He wasn't sure whether to break down or break something. The latter seemed like it would feel more fulfilling. He'd finally gotten Beth back, but in some cruel twist of fate, she wasn't Beth...not _really_. She looked like Beth, sounded like Beth, and felt like Beth, but this girl had none of the same memories as _his _Beth. In the short time he'd been around her, the differences he could identify in her had him reeling, but a small part of him hoped that with enough time he could find the Beth he knew within her.

He smirked at his thoughts. Finding himself hoping for things was a definite change due to Beth's influence. He'd been so close to accepting himself, to starting over, before she'd been taken from him. The idea of letting someone in, past his walls, had terrified him, but Beth had managed to do just that. She'd showed him there was more to life than just surviving. She'd given him hope, helped him keep faith that the others were alive, and towards the end he'd realized he didn't view Beth the same as anyone else in his life. Just as he was beginning to explore the idea of the possibilities between them…she was gone. Then the hospital incident happened…and she was _really _gone. Forever. Or so he had thought.

It had been tough on him, but it had been harsher on Maggie. He'd carried a sort of hatred for Maggie since that day. He understood not wanting to get their hopes up that she was still alive, but Daryl had _never_, not even for one moment, thought Beth was dead. Maggie had seemed to have forgotten Beth had ever existed, until she got word that the younger Greene was alive. He'd never forgive her for running off to go on some 'mission' to Washington and leaving all of them behind. If they had all been there, at the hospital, would they have made a difference? Would Beth still be alive? The different scenarios had tormented him the first year, after that horrific day, and Maggie had lost all hope in life until she'd found out she was pregnant. She and Glenn had moved from Alexandria soon after.

He was glad when Maggie and Glenn left for the Hilltop Colony. After taking control from Gregory during the Saviors attack, the two of became the leaders of the community. Their son, who they'd named Hershel after his grandfather, was born the same year. It had been harder to be around Maggie after Beth's death. On top of his grudge, Maggie reminded him of _her _in so many ways. Then there were the times where he'd had to struggle to see Beth within her sister. It had become an obsession of sorts; constantly looking for signs of Beth within Maggie's persona, but not wanting to feel the pain afterwards when he actually found them. Thus, when Maggie left, his life became easier. He finally began to let go…finally began to _try_ and move on. Daryl knew he would _never_ recover from losing Beth, but he also knew that she wouldn't want him wasting away, abstaining from making a life for himself, now that they were safe behind the walls of Alexandria.

However, today…all of that had changed.

Sighing, knowing he should begin heading back, Daryl climbed down from his place of solitude. By now word would have spread that Beth was alive, riders would have been sent to Hilltop, and everyone in their group, save Maggie and Glenn who would need time to get their affairs in order before making the trip, would be at the Orlich's house tonight for dinner. Sherry was by far the best cook, always looking for a reason to make a big meal, and their house was the best suited for entertaining.

As his feet touched the ground, he scanned the woods one last time. It was rare that he came across walkers nowadays, with the herders doing their job of keeping the abominations away from Alexandria, but the threat remained and Daryl knew better than to drop his guard. The one time he had done so had ended up being the biggest mistake of his life. However, the woods were as quiet as they always were. There were no signs of the dead and the sounds of wildlife told him the area was clear of any danger.

Slinging his crossbow over his shoulder, Daryl left his safe haven, and began the trek back to the walls that were his home.

…

Morgan stayed close to Beth as they followed the directions to Dwight and Sherry's house. While they'd been escorted to the mess hall, he had taken a moment to speak with Rick about Beth's…predicament, and asked that everyone who knew her be made aware of her situation. He knew people would still be in awe to see Beth alive, but he didn't want her to have to explain herself time and time again throughout the night. As hard as it had been for Beth to lose all the memories about herself, he could tell that losing memories of the people she had supposedly cared for was affecting her _much_ worse.

The sun had set when they reached the worn picket fence with _Orlich _carved into the wood over the gate. Morgan stopped and turned to Beth, gauging her expression and trying to think of the best way to help lower anxiety.

"Rick said he'd explain to everyone what happened. They'll know so you don't have to worry about explanin' yourself or hurtin' anyone's feelings," he reminded her.

Beth took a deep breath and nodded, "'Kay."

"You're strong. You're gonna' be _just _fine," Morgan patted her head.

Beth huffed, "Let's just get this over with."

Leading the way, Morgan knocked on the door and was greeted by the man they had seen earlier that day.

"Hey! The guests of honor are finally here," Dwight yelled to the crowd of people behind him.

Their initial arrival had been a blur. Beth had been swallowed in so many tearful hugs and relieved smiles that he'd worried she would've been completely overwhelmed. Much to his relief, she had returned each embrace and met every smile with one of her own. Some people's reactions had been stronger than others, but Morgan knew everyone was equal parts ecstatic and amazed that Beth was in fact alive.

He, himself, had been introduced to so many people it was hard to keep everyone's names straight. Rick had greeted him at the door and reintroduced him to Daryl, Rick's second-in-command, and Dwight, who acted under Daryl and was in charge of security. There was also Sherry, the woman who had been in the office upon their initial arrival, who also happened to be Dwight's wife. Sherry helped Rick with resource reports that kept Alexandria running and was also in charge of transitioning people into their community from the outside world. However, there were several others whom he had never met.

The first person Rick introduced was Carol, an older woman in charge of teaching children both education and weapon's training. Next was a Father Gabriel, the pastor of the community, followed by a younger black woman named Sasha, a first class sniper who worked with Dwight. There was an equally young Hispanic female named Rosita, in charge of the group who herded walkers, and her boyfriend Eugene, a heavier, Caucasian man with an interesting haircut, who had a team that created ammunition. Lastly was a girl close to Beth's age named Tara, who was the head of construction in Alexandria. Rick then informed him that Carl had taken a blacksmith apprenticeship at Hilltop and that Michonne had been M.I.A. since after the war with the Saviors.

Morgan had been able to gather bits and pieces about this group that called themselves 'Saviors' as the night progressed. Apparently they had been led by a man named Negan, who had taken the life of Sasha's brother. After a long and grisly battle, with the help of Dwight playing a double agent, Rick had beaten and incarcerated the vile man. Dwight took over leadership, but after a few harsh winters and tense negotiations, the Saviors had eventually become a part of Alexandria.

Through it all, Beth had remained glued to his side, listening to and studying everyone they came in contact with. Morgan, ever the observant one, had also noticed how a pair of bright, blue eyes had followed them around the house since the moment they'd entered the door.

It was just before dinner when a blond woman entered the house, a child on her hip, and crossed the room to greet Rick with a kiss. The child looked no older than four or five. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, accentuated by the navy, cotton dress she was wearing, and she had a head full of long, curly brown hair. It was in that moment that the most shocking reunion of the night took place. As soon as the young girl's eyes landed on Beth, she leapt to the ground and ran to Morgan's young comrade. Not having much choice, Beth picked up the young child sobbing into her legs.

"_Morgan_," Beth's face was panicked.

The child was clinging onto her so tightly that Beth didn't even need to support young girl's weight. Rick quickly approached the two girls, but seemed just as uncertain of what to do as Beth.

"She yours?" Morgan asked confusedly.

"Yeah," Rick affirmed before turning his attention back to the child and gently touching her back, "Judith? Honey?"

The child ignored her father's attention and continued sobbing into Beth's neck.

"She know Beth?" Morgan asked, standing by Beth, but unsure of how to help.

"I didn't think she'd remember her," Rick replied honestly; wiping a hand down his face and placing the other on his hip, "Beth raised her. Judy was nearly two when the prison fell. She hasn't seen Beth since then."

There was a change in Beth's expression. Her eyes went from wild and uncertain to focused and determined. Removing one arm from supporting the child's weight, Beth began patting the young girl's back and shushing her softly.

The entire house was silent as Beth's eyes fluttered around the room apprehensively.

Finding her niche, Beth slowly rocked Judith from side to side, alternating between rubbing her back and brushing the tips of her hair as everyone watched. He could see the tension around Beth melting away and if Morgan was being honest, the scene before him was the most 'at peace' he had ever witnessed from his blond companion. When the child's sobbing turned into quiet hiccups, conversations resumed and Beth took the child to the living room.

"I never dreamed Judith would act like that," Rick sighed sadly.

"Kids remember more than we give 'em credit for," Morgan replied wisely.

"When Lori died…" Rick cleared his throat, "Beth took care of Judith. Carol helped, but it was always Beth that Judith wanted."

Morgan wasn't sure how to reply, so he remained silent, watching Beth standing in front of the fireplace from where he stood in the dining room.

"Is she okay?" The blond woman from earlier moved to stand beside Rick.

"She's gonna' be just fine," Rick said with a reminiscent smile, "Ah. Morgan, this is Barbara."

"Pleasure- t'meet you ma'am," Morgan extended his hand.

"Rick's told me so much about you two," Barbara took his hand with both of hers, "I'm so glad the two of you have finally made it to all of us safely."

Morgan looked around the room, feeling a sense of 'home' that he hadn't had in such a long time. These were _good_ people. These were the people who were going to ensure mankind survived. He and Beth would be safe here. They wouldn't have to struggle every day to make sure they lived to see the next; there would be no more dirt mattresses, no more running from place to place with no destination, and no more living in constant fear. Here they could just _live_.

When his eyes drifted back to Beth, she was animatedly talking to the young child still in her arms. The smile on her face was genuine and she looked completely at ease. Morgan wasn't the only one who had noticed the scene in the living room; catching Daryl discreetly staring at the two girls as they laughed quietly.

"Dinner's ready!" Sherry announced, breaking Morgan's concentration.

Dishes began pouring from the kitchen; filling the room with the most heavenly smells he'd experienced in years. As people began crowding around the table, Morgan caught sight of Rick retrieving Judith from Beth. He smiled as he watched his friend struggle to take his daughter from Beth, but without even needing to hear them, he knew Beth had made promises to whisk the young child away again after dinner.

With Rick returning to the table, he expected Beth to follow behind, but instead he saw her bolting for the front door. He immediately took a step to chase after her when he noticed Daryl pushing off the wall and maneuvering to the entryway.

Morgan knew Beth wouldn't leave Alexandria without him. He assumed she just needed some fresh air after being around so many people. She couldn't remember a world where crowds of people interacted with one another. All she knew was that when a crowd of corpses were shambling together, it meant they had to run for their lives. Having so many sights and sounds in a confined space had to be overwhelming her. While Beth needed to interact with someone who'd known her, Daryl seemingly the only person she'd had such a strong connection with thus far, Morgan still worried she'd run from all of this.

Taking a deep breath and hoping he was making the right choice, Morgan took his seat and tried to push his concerns to the back of his mind.

…

Daryl rushed through Dwight's front door, expecting Beth to be in sight, only to be greeted by an empty street.

Without electricity to run street lights, most people returned to the safety of their homes when the sun set. The only people out this late at night were those on guard duty along the walls, monitoring the terrain outside of Alexandria.

Standing in the front yard, knowing Beth couldn't have gotten far in the minute or two it took him to get out of the house, he looked for any sign of where she could have went. His eyes, adjusting to the darkness, scanned the ground as he bent down to examine the dirt. There were fresh prints toward the house, but none towards the gate, which meant Beth was still on the premises. Standing, he turned to face the house when a voice caught his attention.

"There 'ah reason you followed me out here?" Beth asked from where she sat on top of the roof awning that covered the porch.

"How tha' hell'd you get up there?" Daryl blurted out without thinking.

"Climbed the lattice," Beth gestured to the vines growing up the side of the house.

Daryl considered attempting to climb the wooden trellis, but didn't think it would hold his weight. Sherry also happened to be very fond of her greenery and he didn't want to risk damaging her plants.

"I jus' needed some fresh air," Beth said softly, "I was expectin' Morgan to come out here and check on me. Thought I might get away with hiding up here for a bit."

Sighing, resigning himself to the earful he would get later if Sherry ever found out about him climbing onto her roof, Daryl moved to the lattice tacked to the house beside the porch. The wood creaked as he applied his weight to the frame and clambered onto the awning as soon as it was within reach. Carefully placing his feet on the wooden slates covering the roof, he made his way over to where Beth sat. She didn't move as he lowered himself to sit beside her and he situated himself to get comfortable, waiting for her to initiate a conversation.

They sat in silence. Looking up at the sky, Daryl began counting the stars in order to keep himself from speaking first. He wasn't sure she was looking to talk and was content to just be in her presence after three years without it.

"I don't remember anything," Beth's voice filtered through the air.

"I know," Daryl replied solemnly.

"I always thought getting shot an' losin' my memory was because I had done somethin' really bad. Because I was a bad person," she admitted while staring up at the sky, "I mean, I got shot…in the _head_."

Daryl internally flinched as he envisioned the scene that had haunted his dreams.

Beth, oblivious to his sudden stillness, continued, "We've come across people…out there. They were ruthless…desperate…or narcissistic."

"People will do anything t'try and survive," Daryl's voice took a disgusted edge.

"There jus' aren't any good people left," Beth breathed.

"There are. There are still good people," Daryl immediately countered, "Rick and everyone else here. Morgan. They're all good people."

Beth hummed a reply.

"You're good too," he added while turning back to look at the stars.

The tension in the air felt thick as Daryl tried to remain passive. He could feel Beth's eyes on him, but he wasn't sure how he would react if he met her gaze, and forced himself to stare out over the community.

"What…" Beth paused, causing Daryl to lose his internal battle and turn to her, "What was I like? _Before_?"

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck in thought, "I ain't tha' best with words, but you were good, tough, just like yer' old man."

Beth pursed her lips as she listened and Daryl took a deep breath in an attempt to settle his nerves.

"Rick depended on you. You were a good mom figure t'asskicker…uh, Judith," he clarified when she gave him a puzzled look, "You helped look after Carl too, Rick's son, after his mom died. Maggie…she never gave you enough credit."

"Maggie's my sister, right?" Beth inquired in a tone of indifference.

"Yeah. She's older'n you by a few years. She married a guy named Glenn. They met when we found your farm after the outbreak. They got 'ah son; Hershel. He's named after your old man," Daryl informed her.

"So how'd we know each other?" Beth's eyes bore into his.

"I was with Rick's group when we came across your place. The farm eventually got overrun by 'ah herd. We found a prison and made it into our home. We were safe for a time. There was a town, fortified kinda' like here, but their leader…he attacked us and we had to run. Me an' you, we got out together. We were together for a'while," Daryl briefly summarized their journey together, leaving out details he wasn't sure she was ready to hear or that he was ready to share.

"The way you acted when you saw me," Beth stared down at her feet dangling over the edge of the awning, "What were we?"

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip.

He didn't know how to answer her question. While they had never taken steps beyond friendship, their conversation at the dinner table of the mortuary had thrown open doors to opportunities he had never imagined. There was no doubt in his mind he had felt _something _for Beth, but he couldn't say to what extent. Relationships weren't an area in which he excelled. Glancing up, still unsure how to answer, the opening of the front door stopped him mid-sentence.

"We were-"

"_Daryl Dixon_," a female voice called from below, "How in the world did you two get on top of my roof?"

_Shit_.

"You did _not_ climb up my lattice…did you," Sherry wasn't asking, "You _did_! You must'a lost your damn mind! Beth doesn't know any better, but you…_you _know how long it took me to get those vines growin'."

Daryl, irritated with being interrupted, snapped a reply, "I didn't mess up yer' fuckin' plants."

Sherry narrowed her eyes, but refrained from making any further comments on their situation. Instead she sighed and stated, "Dinners gonna' get cold if you two don't come and eat."

With that, she stormed back into the house, leaving Daryl with an extremely amused Beth.

"You could've told me her plants were sacred," Beth smirked at him.

"You wouldn't 'ah come down anyway," Daryl grumbled.

Beth's smirk faltered and Daryl felt a sense of dread envelope him, unsure if he'd said something wrong.

"We must've been close for you to know me so well," she murmured as her eyes danced between his.

Lost in her eyes, Daryl felt a sudden ache in his chest. _This _was his Beth. She may have had a slightly reformed temperament, but deep down, she was still the same. He could see it in her eyes. He could hear it in her voice. She wanted to know about her past, about _him_, but she was scared. He could only imagine what it felt like hearing stories of yourself and not feeling any connection to them.

Looking away from her, Daryl glared down at the ground below them, trying to reign in his emotions. When he trusted his voice enough to talk, he met her gaze once more.

"Yeah…we were," his voice rough as he spoke.

Beth nodded and placed her hands on either side of her legs to grip the roof.

"We should head back inside," she commented absently.

Daryl grunted a reply.

His heart leaped to his throat when Beth pushed off from where she sat to land nimbly on the dirt path beneath them. In reality it wasn't that far of a drop, eight to nine feet at the max, but he hadn't been expecting the sudden action.

"You comin'?" She asked as she stared up at him.

Knowing the alternative was better than chancing a climb back down the wooden trellis covered in vines; Daryl slid off the roof and landed, albeit not quite as gracefully as Beth.

"I guess I should thank you," Beth said as they moved to the porch, "for comin' out here and answerin' my questions."

Daryl shrugged one of his shoulders, "You deserve t'know."

"Yeah, I guess I do," she replied breezily.

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to proceed. If it had been him and Beth before, he would have just spoken his mind.

The thought made him furrow his brows. Things may not be _exactly_ the same, but it was still Beth, and there was no reason for him to act any different. Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Daryl tightened his jaw as a new sense of clarity calmed him. He refused to tiptoe around her. She deserved better than that. She deserved his honestly now more than ever.

Keeping his voice even, Daryl spoke quietly, "You may not 'member anything from before, but that don't matter. You're here…you're _alive_ and you're here. You get to start over."

A small smile tugged at Beth's lips, "'Ah second chance, huh?"

"Back when it was jus' me and you, you showed me that we could start over," Daryl elaborated, "So I'll be here…if you need me."

"I've already started over," Beth sighed, "I didn't have a choice."

Daryl clenched his teeth imaging how confused Beth must have been when she'd finally become coherent.

"Morgan saved my life and I'll never be able to repay him for that," Beth's tone changed, "As long as I've got him, I'll be fine."

Without waiting for a reply, Beth turned and re-entered the house, leaving Daryl standing on the porch.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there when Dwight came out to check on him, but he'd had enough time to go through the entire interaction with Beth at least a hundred times.

"Hey," Dwight greeted him as he opened the door, "You okay?"

"Fine," Daryl bit out.

"You gonna' come inside and grab 'ah plate?" Dwight furrowed the brow still visible on his face.

Daryl's jaw hurt from how tightly he'd be grinding it, "I ain't hungry. I'm gonna' head out."

"Oh, alright. I'll let Rick know," Dwight replied cautiously.

"Thanks," Daryl grumbled as he began descending the stairs of the porch.

"You sure you're alright?" Dwight called after him.

Daryl didn't bother replying.

The entire walk home, he couldn't shake the bitter feeling of how his conversation with Beth had ended. He couldn't decide whether he was angry with her for dismissing him when he'd put himself out there, with Morgan for being the one who had ultimately replaced him, or with himself for having unrealistic expectations that Beth would suddenly remember everything that had happened between them.

Opening the door to his dark, quiet home, Daryl trudged through the house to his bedroom and plopped onto his bed. When he'd gone to bed the night before, he had expected today to be as monotonous as any other. He was willing to admit that he'd become somewhat bored with the routine of daily life in Alexandria, but he appreciated the fact that he could actually _be_ bored.

After today, he didn't think life would ever be the same, and he was beyond thankful for the reasons behind it. He'd learned tonight, after his conversation with Beth, that she _did_ want to know about her past. She had even asked about their relationship. That was enough for him to believe there was a chance for them to get back to how things had been _before _and he was willing to do whatever it took to get there. He'd had to fight for anything he'd ever wanted in life and this would be no different.

_Daryl knew that nothing worth having ever came easy. _

...

**A/N: **Barbara is a background character in the comics.

Yay! Judith x Beth reunion! This is probably my favorite chapter thus far!

Writing a progressive Daryl, one effected by Beth and not as 'brooding' as we're used to, is actually A LOT harder to write than 'internally hating everyone' Daryl. Lol. So I hope you guys enjoyed this!

_***Writing Schedule***_

I'm going to go back to my normal 2 week upload (and if I get a chapter finished early, it will posted the following Sunday). I'm also going to split my uploads. I'm feeling my Bethyl groove again so one Sunday will be a post for H.O.P.E. and the next Sunday will be for Sometimes When Things Go Wrong... Once season 5 is over, I will start For the Ones you Protect. I want to see how the rest of the season goes so I can incorporate Beth (much like I did with the season 4 finale in For the Ones You Love.) SO PLEASE DON'T WORRY! Even though I'm starting my own book, I WILL CONTINUE WRITING FANFICTION! My book isn't going to be something I finish is a few days. This is going to be a long process and fanfics has always been a fun escape for me!

**Happy holidays everyone and I send you my love and best wishes!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you **Nicole for being amazing as always and editing this for me!

**A/N: **Just an FYI for you **The 100** fans. I've created an alternative account under the username **apenny100** (link is on my profile) where I will post little fics I write about The 100. I'm sticking with oneshots or two to three chapter stories because I don't want to start another long multi-fic chapter until I wrap up my TWD stories (plus writing my book). I decided to write stories about The 100 just to give me something else to adventure with where I don't have a schedule and can write on a whim. I ship **Bellarke** (sorry to any Flarke shippers out there) so if you're interested go follow my other account! I have a story I'm 1/3 of the way through writing…as in I have one of three chapters written…so you can anticipate that when I get it finished! Thanks for all the support guys and enjoy the new chapter of H.O.P.E.! XOXO

…

It had been nearly a week since she and Morgan had arrived at Alexandria. Beth wasn't used to being around so many people at once and when she began feeling too overwhelmed, she would venture, or rather sneak, outside the walls into the warm embrace of the woods. Morgan had worried the first few times she'd disappeared, but she always returned unharmed and that seemed to be enough for him not to reprimand her too harshly. It both annoyed and touched her that he worried for her when he knew she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, but she supposed that's what people who cared were supposed to do. Morgan may not have been her blood, but he was the closest thing to family that she would ever know.

Her 'sister' was supposed to be arriving sometime during the afternoon, but Beth wasn't particularly excited by the prospect. She had told Daryl several nights ago, outside of that house, that as long as she had Morgan, she didn't need anyone else. Morgan was the _only _person she trusted. These people who _knew _her seemed to be telling the truth, but things were different. She wasn't the same 'Beth.' There was no way she could be. The Beth _before _had a father named Hershel, an older sister named Maggie, and had met the group on the Greene farm; the Beth _now_ had crawled out of a shallow grave and been 'raised' by Morgan to survive the undead and to view _everyone_, no matter their size or appearance, as a threat.

Movement below caught her attention and pure reflex had her hand reaching for the gun on her hip before she registered whether there was any actual danger. Several yards in front of her stood a deer, much healthier than the first one she had seen over a year ago with Morgan, blithely nibbling on the bits of grass protruding through the colored piles of leaves. She released her clutch on her pistol and leaned forward in the handmade chair she sat upon, high above the dirt floor. She'd come across the tree stand she currently inhabited during one of the first times she'd snuck out and decided to make it her haven, knowing that being _off_ the ground was safer than trying to find a place to relax _on_ the ground. It seemed fairly new, as the integrity of the wood did not look compromised due to the elements or age, and assumed it had probably been built by someone from Alexandria.

Inhaling deeply, Beth let herself relish in her surroundings. The moment was surreal to her. The rising sun cast halos through the swaying tree limbs, the air was cool enough that she could see her breath in small puffs with each exhale, and below her a young buck grazed without fear. She tried to imagine what life must have been like _before_, where people didn't live in constant distress, have to lie, steal, or fight for their next meal, and where she had possibly led a happy life with a family who loved her. She could remember nothing before waking to the harsh world in which everyone now lived and that made no difference to her. She wasn't particularly happy or sad, keeping more of a callous mentality to having any emotions at all. She did what had to be done in order to survive and learned it was easier to feel _nothing_ than try to find any sort of sentiment in such a dark, cruel world. However, for the first time in the three years since her…'_rebirth_,' she found beauty in this moment. Beth could only assume that this was what peace might have felt like.

Slowly, she folded her arms over her knees, and watched the animal beneath her. She was so enthralled in the scene that she jumped when the deer jerked its head up from the ground. It looked off into the foliage behind it, ears quirky every which way, hearing and seeing something Beth could not. Reaching once more for her gun, she froze when the deer looked up at her, as if noticing her for the first time. She couldn't help but stare and felt her heart sink when it ran under her tree and away from whatever had first grasped its attention.

Slumping against the sharp bark of the tree behind her, the brace of her machete digging awkwardly into her back, Beth sighed heavily. It saddened her how easily peace could be broken. She supposed people thought the same with how quickly the world had changed, suddenly going from common to unfamiliar, and in a way she was glad she had lost her memories; a person can't miss what they don't remember.

Closing her eyes and taking another languid breath, knowing she'd spent longer out of the walls than usual and Morgan would worry if she didn't return soon, she heard what sounded like a deep voice in the distance. Opening her eyes and wrinkling her brows, Beth sat straight, and listened more intently. The woods had gone quiet…_too_ quiet. She could feel the prickling sensation of dread rising up the back of her neck and she knew what was coming before she saw them.

"_Walkers_," she whispered when the deep voice turned into a gargled groan as the shuffling of feet through leaves could be heard.

Turning and stepping down the wooden boards hammered into the tree two at a time, she landed on the ground as quietly as possible. Throwing herself behind the tree, she waited. If it were only a few walkers, she could handle them, but any more than a dozen or so then she would have to run. She knew not everyone in Alexandria was equipped to handle a herd, but they had protocols for these situations, herders they had called them. They led the walkers away from the walls, but left them to roam elsewhere. In her opinion, it wasn't safe to leave even _one _walker 'alive.' The more walkers they 'cleared,' as Morgan phrased it, the more lives they saved.

Glancing around the tree, she saw two walkers coming from the bushes and sighed in relief. Two would be a no trouble at all. Unclipping her forearm machete from the makeshift bandolier strapped across her chest, Beth quickly slipped the weapon into place and tightened its hold on her arm. Moving from behind the tree, she calmly walked over to the first walker and thrust her blade upward through the corpse's nasal cavity. Yanking her blade free, she threw her arm in a circular motion and removed the top half of the second walkers head from the rest of its decomposing body.

Flicking her arm a few times, removing as much blood and brain matter from her machete as possible, she reached for the straps of her weapon. The shuffling of more feet through the leaves further behind her caused her to pause and she spun around to see several more walkers exiting the tree line. Taking a cautious step back, Beth moved as stealthily as possible, as the grumbling continued to crescendo. Not only were the walkers coming from behind her, but more and more were becoming visible from the direction of the two she had just killed.

Her path back to Alexandria was slowly being cut off by walking corpses and Beth quickly weighed her options. She could climb back up to safety of the tree stand, but there were hundreds of unsuspecting people in Alexandria and Morgan was among them. If he realized, which she was sure he already had, that she wasn't within the walls, there was no doubt in her mind that he would risk his life to come and find her. While the Safe zone was a fortress and she was sure the walls themselves would keep the infected out, the question was for how long? Walkers never tire and over time, with enough pressure, even metal and steel would begin to fold. Morgan had learned that the walls had fallen once already from a herd, which was why Rick had doubled the efforts of the herders and scouts along the roads to Alexandria.

With her mind made up, Beth began making a mad dash for the gates of the Safe Zone. She was maybe a mile or two from the walls and though the walkers weren't especially fast, Beth had to maneuver quickly while avoiding the dead as well as trees and shrubs. The jagged edges of the branches caught her flesh, knowing blood was probably seeping from wounds she couldn't feel, and barbs tore into her clothes. When an especially thick thorn bush snagged her apparel, she was forced to discard her jacket. In the time it took her to untangle herself from her extra layer, several walkers were in her route, forcing her farther off the semi-beaten path.

She could feel herself on the verge of panicking; knowing that if she didn't calm herself down she would overexert herself even more and her body could possibly being failing her faster if her symptoms arose. Glancing back, she felt nauseous at the number of walkers shambling through the woods. There had to be at least a hundred, if not more, and they were all moving in the direction of Alexandria. She wasn't sure whose job it was to patrol the southern roads to the Safe Zone, but whoever had been given the job had epically failed.

The only choice she had now was to run…to _keep _running. She'd never been in this sort of situation without Morgan, and knowing the older man, he would be scolding her for putting everyone else above herself and not climbing back up into the tree stand. She just couldn't do that though. The guilt of sitting in safety while other people were in danger, knowing she could have done something to help, would be more than Beth could bear. Thus, she _had_ to make it because otherwise her efforts to warn everyone would be in vain and her death would be meaningless.

Skidding to a halt, she stabbed a walker through the back with her machete before it had a chance to round on her. Using the body as camouflage, she pressed through the herd, making herself as small as possible behind the carcass. She felt her left leg beginning to prickle, the first sign that her brain was losing the connection that allowed her to control her bodily movements. She tried to focus on her breathing, but between the stench of death invading her senses and having nowhere safe to hide, all she could do was keep pushing forward. The rush of adrenaline was helping to keep her feet moving, but she could feel herself slowly reaching the limit of what her body could handle.

A grip on her shirt gained her attention. Glancing back she wasn't sure whether the abomination realized she was one of them or not, but she wasn't willing to take a chance. Ripping the blade out of the walkers she was steering, she twisted and sliced the hand grabbing at her clothes in one swift movement, leaving the limb dangling awkwardly from the rest of its arm. Blood splattered across her face, dripping down her skin to absorb in the material of her shirt, but she forced herself to remain focused and quickly ended the corpse before it could sink its teeth into her. She then spun back to the walker she had used for camouflage and stabbed upwards, through the soft spot in the back of the neck just like Morgan had showed her, and jumped over the twice dead body as it crumbled to the ground. She could see the clearing through the undergrowth, pumping her legs as fast as they would take her, knowing there was still a decent amount of distance from the trees to the gates. Glancing behind her, she discerned that she wasn't going to make it in time to give them any warning. The dead were on her heels and she would be lucky if they even opened the gate for her. She needed to get their attention _now_, as she exited the woods, and suddenly an idea came to her.

She knew if she came running out of the thicket, no one would suspect too much until the walkers became visible. Even if she screamed, it was only likely to cause confusion and thus she decided to use what she was _certain _would get people moving; gunfire. The sound of gunshots automatically equaled either walkers or people attacking. Either way, it would get the guard tower barking orders for more people to get along the fences.

Pulling her pistol from its holster, she dashed towards the edge of the tree line, circling around so that her back was towards the clearing, and began retreating out of the woods. When the foliage beside her vanished and she knew she was visible to the people on patrol, she switched off her safety and began firing her gun. Emptying her first clip, taking around twelve walkers and hitting three more in nonlethal areas, Beth pulled the magazine free of the gun and shoved it into her back pocket. Grabbing the spare clip, never having been more grateful than in this moment for Morgan's incessant nagging to _always _keep a second round of bullets, she awkwardly reloaded, mindful of the blade still attached to her arm.

Firing at the walkers closest to her, Beth could hear the exclamations from the walls. There were voices shouting at her to run for the gate, but she knew she wouldn't be able to create enough distance to get inside without leading the walkers right to the entrance. She was too tired and it was beyond her how her left leg was still moving as she had completely lost feeling in it before she'd even exited the woods.

_"If Morgan could see me, he would know_," she thought to herself as she struggled to breathe.

She staggered, her knees trying to buckle beneath her weight, and there was an audible 'click' when she pulled the trigger. With no bullets left to fire, she holstered her weapon and tried to keep herself steady. Swinging wildly, she hacked off part of a walkers face, but failed to strike the brain. Lunging again, she imbedded her blade in the side of the creatures head and pulled back, as if unsheathing a sword, and the walker slide off the tip of her weapon. She then had to thrust her blade into the ground to keep from tipping forward and her chest heaved as she fought to keep air filling her lungs.

Another walker was coming from the side and she knew she needed to pull her machete free from the dirt, but she couldn't. Fumbling for the knife on her belt with her free hand, she gripped it with weak fingers, and compelled herself to stand upright. Just as the walker was upon her, a shot was fired from the gates, blowing the rotted head away from its body.

Sighing, knowing someone with decent aim and a rifle was helping her, Beth mustered enough strength to pull her machete from the ground. Turning back to the trees, a new burst of adrenaline flooded her system, giving her the speed to throw her arm in front of her face as a walker fell upon her. Its teeth gnashed against her blade and blood trickled onto her face as the decayed flesh sliced further back with each attempt it made to bite her against the sharp edge.

A strangled, frustrated cry rushed from her throat and she turned her head to try and find where her other knife had landed. The weight of the walker on her body was suffocating and the smell of death and mold made her want to vomit. Heated tears spilled from her eyes. She was so _angry_…angry at the injury that had impaired her, angry at her body for not being able to do what she was asking, angry at herself for always getting herself in these situations, and angry at the world for being the way it was.

Her arm trembled and the cool metal of the brace began pressing into her cheek. Her eyes focused when fingers grazed the hilt of her knife and she tightened her jaw in determination. If she was going to die here, she was going to die _fighting_. She stretched her hand further, feeling the walker's skin brushing against hers as it worked different angles to reach her, and caught a glint of metal as the blade bounced in grass each time she touched it. She almost had the knife in her hand when a shadow moved over her and the corpse suddenly stilled; the tip of a blade protruding from its forehead. It was only then that she could hear the chaos of screams and gunfire around her. Looking up, she expected dark eyes and darker skin, but her breath hitched when crystal blue and tan skin filled her vision.

"Beth," his voice boomed in her ears as he shoved the walker off of her, "Can ya' move?"

Beth nodded, having to focus too hard on breathing to speak, and attempted to sit up.

She managed, with Daryl's help, to get to her feet, but the moment he released her, she crumbled into his chest.

"Can't," she managed to say as she sucked in a deep breath.

Daryl nodded, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, and she let her head rest against his shoulder.

"I got ya'," his voice sounded so far away as he spoke, "Dwight, we gotta' go."

She could feel herself being jostled about as he ran, but it was all she could do keep her eyes open. She looked up, seeing the sun was now much higher in the air, and wondered how long she'd actually been fighting off the dead. The entire incident had felt like it had happened in a matter of seconds, but the exhaustion that seeped into her bones made her aware that it had been _much_ longer than that.

Closing her eyes, her head lolling as they moved, she could hear Daryl's voice yelling her name. She could feel the tension in his muscles, she recognized the concern in his tone, but she was just so very, _very_ tired. Daryl's hold was nothing like Morgan's had been the few times he'd had to carry her. While physical contact was something that Beth wasn't generally comfortable with, there was a strange familiarity to being held by Daryl. His smell, a mixture of oil and leather, tugged at her senses. His warmth made her feel safe for the first time since she could remember and she wondered if he'd ever held her like this _before. _Against her will, the sounds around her faded and the world turned black.

Beth Greene wasn't sure if she'd ever open her eyes again.

…

The first thing that Beth became aware of was the brilliant, bright light that blinded her. The second was the smell of oil and leather that enveloped her. The third was that she was actually blinking her eyes as they adjusted to her surroundings and the soft bed she was lying upon. Looking around, she was in a room she didn't recognize, and the blinding light had been from the sunlight streaming in through the window. There was an empty chair beside her bed and a glass of water on the nightstand, but there were no other indicators that suggested the room was lived in. Sitting up, she tried to follow Morgan's advice and take things slowly, knowing her body wasn't in the best condition despite how she felt.

Reaching for the glass of water, she drank it greedily; she returned it to the bedside table void of its previous contents. Her right arm was blackened with bruises and she hadn't been changed out of the clothes covered in walker blood, but for the most part she didn't appear any worse for wear. Not that she would be able to feel any difference anyway.

She could hear voices behind the closed door and watched the knob begin to turn, revealing the same blue eyes and tan skin that had come for her in the clearing. He shut the door behind him and moved into the chair beside her bed wordlessly. She watched his every move, analyzing him much like she had when they sat on the awning of Sherry's porch.

"Hey," he said softly.

Beth didn't respond.

He cleared his throat, "How…are you feelin'?"

Beth stayed silent.

His eyes jumped from her, to the bed, to his hands, and back to her, but he couldn't seem to hold her gaze. She wasn't sure what she was searching for, but Daryl had been an anomaly since she'd first met him at the gates. He had revealed that they had been close, as she had assumed from his initial reaction, but she felt like there was something he wasn't telling her. Taking a deep breath, relieved the action didn't call for extra effort, she spoke.

"I've been worse," her voice came out hoarse.

Daryl's eyes shot up to hers and it was his turn to lapse into silence.

She scanned the room once more before looking back to Daryl, "Where am I?"

"My place. Didn't think tha' mess hall would do much for someone recovering," he answered her.

"Where's Morgan?" She inquired apprehensively.

"Down tha' road," he gestured over his shoulder to nowhere in particular, "He's been helping set up y'alls place. I told 'em I'd keep an eye on ya'."

"How long have I been out?" She asked after a few heartbeats, moving her gaze from Daryl to the window behind him.

"'Bout 'ah day," he replied quietly.

"_Damn_," she breathed and heard him chuckle, "What?"

"Nothin'," he shook his head, but the look she gave him must have conveyed that he needed to explain and he added, "I ain't used to hearin' you cuss."

"Was that not…somethin' I did?" She asked carefully.

"Not especially," his eyes seemed to soften as he spoke, "You had 'ah thing or two t'say to me, but for tha' most part you kept it clean."

"Mark cussin' under 'Things That Have Changed,'" she huffed; her tone dripping in sarcasm.

"'S not so bad," Daryl smirked, causing her lips to curve upwards.

"It's strange. When I woke up, there were all these…_things_ I knew how t'do, but didn't know _how_ I knew I could do them. My body seemed to remember even when I couldn't. Some things were lost, but Morgan said I recalled how t'do all the important stuff," she murmured and smiled a little, "The cussin' is definitely picked up from Morgan though."

Daryl's rough laugh widened her smile.

A lull fell between them and Beth tore her eyes away from him to stare at her bruised arm; a clear outline of where her forearm machete had been strapped to her skin drawn in black and blue.

"I was fine with what was gonna' happen ya' know," Beth spoke evenly.

"With what?" Daryl's voice sounded gruffer than it had a moment ago.

"It's different for you…for _everyone_. You have all these memories, hopes and dreams, but all I have is _this_," she disclosed looking up at him, "I woke up to 'ah world filled with death…suffering…regret and chaos. I don't know anything else. For so long it was jus' me an' Morgan. I owe him more than I will ever be able t'repay, but he's 'ah good man. He doesn't hold it over my head or take advantage of tha' fact I am _literally_ alive because of him."

Daryl's eyes were fixed on her, but his jaw tightening was his only response.

"The only thing he's ever asked of me was t'do what I felt was _right_," Beth finished somberly.

"What are ya' tryin' to say?" Daryl asked sharply.

"I'm sayin' that I could've climbed back up in my tree stand and let that herd drag their undead feet right up t'Alexandria without doing anything, but I knew that wasn't _right_," she explained, "So I chose to try an' warn the people at the gates, knowin' I probably wouldn't get out of there alive. I have…limits and I've never been by myself like that. Even still, I was willin' t'do whatever I could because it was the right thing t'do."

She wasn't sure what response she was expecting from Daryl, but she had expected him to at least say _something_. However, he just sat there, looking at her with eyes that felt like they were piercing her soul, and she forced herself to keep his gaze.

"I got there in time," he finally responded.

Beth hummed a reply.

"No one saw you pass through the gates," he gave her a flat, if not somewhat amused look if she was reading him correctly, "How'd you get out?"

"If you don't know then that must mean I've got tha' whole sneakin' out thing down pretty good," Beth smirked.

"Can you at least tell me if walkers are able t'get in the same way?" He huffed.

"No. They can't," she answered honestly.

"What were you even doin' out there?" Daryl asked after a few moments.

Beth looked up at the ceiling, replaying the tranquil moments before the walkers appeared and murmured, "Jus' wanted to escape for 'ah bit."

She heard Daryl shifting in his chair, but whatever he wanted to say remained sealed behind his lips.

Closing her eyes she added, "Then the walkers showed up and I had t'return to reality."

"It's not safe out there," Daryl's voice sounded especially rough as he spoke in a quiet tone.

"It's not safe anywhere," Beth smirked, rolling her head to the side to look at him, "and I told you I found me 'ah tree stand. I've got more sense than t'lounge around on tha' ground."

Daryl's smirk held something more that she couldn't quite identify.

Sitting in an unfamiliar room, with nearly a complete stranger, should have made Beth uncomfortable, but for reasons beyond her, she felt a twinge of what had enveloped her while sitting in the tree stand. The realization made her draw her brows together and tighten her jaw. She barely knew this man, and in all honesty he didn't _know_ her either despite what he might have thought, and yet he had run out from the confines of safety to come to her aide. Not many people stuck their necks out for strangers anymore and she wanted to know what his reasoning had been for such an act.

"Why?" She questioned evenly.

"Why what?" He asked.

"Why'd you save me?" She elaborated her inquiry.

"What tha' hell kind'a question is that?" He requested, erupting from his chair.

"You risked your life and the lives of the people that followed you to save _one _person…to save _me_… from a herd of walkers. People don't _do _that. They see a herd and they run _away_ from the walkers. They leave their loved ones behind to save themselves," she rambled her explanation out quickly.

"It was the right thing t'do," he repeated her explanation back to her.

He moved away from her to stand by the window, leaning his forearm on the wall and gazing through the dusty windowpane. Beth watched him, illuminated in the sunlight, and tried to read his expression. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders were rigid, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. When he removed himself from the window to lean against the wall, she blinked and brought her gaze back to stare at her hands fisted loosely in her lap.

Pulling her legs out from under the covers to dangle them over the side of the bed, she sighed, "Thank you."

"'S no big deal'," Daryl shrugged a shoulder.

"No," she refuted, "You saved my life. I owe ya' one."

"You don't owe me nothin'," Daryl retorted, "If anything I'm-"

Beth watched, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but his lips were firmly pressed together and he made no move to continue speaking.

"Morgan said the same thing," she smiled, "'Bout not owin' him. I respect him for it, even though I still think I have to repay 'em somehow."

Daryl nodded, glancing at her through the fringe of his hair.

Placing her feet on the ground, she slowly stood and tested the strength in her legs. The numbness was gone and from the looks of the bruises and cuts battering her body, she was glad she couldn't feel the pain that should have resided.

"What happened?" His voice drifted through the room.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head up at him, "When you had t'carry me?"

Daryl grunted in acknowledgment.

"Not really sure t'be honest," Beth confessed while taking steady steps towards the window, "I think it has t'do with bein' shot. Unless I had some sort 'ah illness?"

She looked up at him expectantly and he shook his head 'no.'

"Then it's from bein' shot. If I push myself too hard, if I do too much over a period of time, I start to lose tha' feelin' in my legs. After a while I'm completely numb and eventually it's too difficult t'move around. Sometimes it gets really hard t'breath. Morgan thought I might've had somethin' wrong _before_, but bein' shot was the most obvious explanation. Neither one of us knew for sure though, 'til now at least," Beth explained as she looked out the window.

She glanced up at Daryl when she heard his teeth grinding together.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me," Beth kept her voice even, "What happened to me, happened for a reason. I deal with it. I don't want anyone's pity."

"You didn't _do_ anything t'deserve this," Daryl spat.

He knew what had happened to her, all she had to do was ask, but she was too afraid to learn the truth. She'd managed to survive the last three years without knowing who she'd been and she didn't see any benefits in learning about what her past self had been like. While she was curious, her imagination had conjured so many different situations that she preferred her oblivion to what the truth might reveal.

"It doesn't always happen," Beth felt the need to ease some of the tension in the air, "Sometimes I can clear several dozen walkers an' be completely fine. Other times, well…you saw."

"Does it hurt?" Daryl turned onto his shoulder, pressing against the side of the window seal, and stared through the window with her.

"I don't even remember what pain feels like," she said so quietly she wasn't sure he heard her.

"What does that-"

A knock on the door interrupted Daryl's question.

"Hey kiddo," Morgan peeked around the door.

"Hey," she replied, stepping away from the window and Daryl to approach the older man.

"How ya' feelin'?" Morgan asked breezily.

"You know I feel fine," she smiled, "My machete arm looks pretty bad though."

"_Jesus_," Morgan took her arm gently, "These are tha' worst you've had."

"Yeah," Beth nodded, "We need to figure out something to replace the inner lining of the brace. It doesn't hinder me, but I don't think this is good for my arm."

She could see Daryl, watching them with unabashed curiosity written all over his features, out of her peripheral. She had kept her guard up while talking with him, but her opinion of him had changed after today. He could have pushed her to tell him how she was getting out of their _almost _impenetrable fortress. He could have left her in the mess hall to recover. He could have let her die; however he did none of those things. He'd asked whether her escape route endangered the lives of the people living in the community, he'd opened his home to a stranger so that she could sleep in the most comfortable bed she had _ever_ laid in, and he had run into a herd of flesh eating monster _for her_. She was beginning to think that maybe, just _maybe_, she could be a little more trusting of Daryl. He put others safety above his own, he was taking care of her when she'd told him she didn't need him or anyone else, and he'd saved her when the only person she expected to do such a thing was Morgan. He was a lot more like her than she'd realized.

"Alright," Morgan's voice broke her thoughts, "I'll ask around."

"I can fix it," Daryl said from where he stood against the wall, "if ya' want."

Beth could feel Morgan's questioning eyes on her, but her gaze was locked on Daryl. If she said yes, she would be taking a step towards…_something_. She had never let anyone else in besides Morgan, but like her companion, Daryl had refused the idea that she owed him for his help. He had proven he was just as good of a man as Morgan so the least she could do was try to trust him.

"Okay," she gave a small smile, "I'd appreciate that."

Something changed in Daryl's expression. His eyes didn't seem quite as harsh and his body visibly relaxed. He dropped his head to look down at his feet before she could fully examine his features and she stared at the top of his head in idle curiosity. Turning back to Morgan, who had the biggest smile she'd ever seen plastered across his face, she felt her smile widen.

"You done good out there hun," he lifted a hand and ruffled her hair.

"I lost it," she grumbled, referring to when she had begun losing control of her body.

"I'm lucky Daryl was there t'get ya'," she watched Morgan glance over to her rescuer.

"Yeah, me too," she said quietly, before asking in a normal tone, "What happened to tha' herd?"

"Rick sent some people out on horses, drove 'em away, but you gave them some extra time. Had damn near every walker out there after you," his smile faltered, "I'm proud of you. You did tha' right thing, but next time…worry more about savin' yourself. I've made it through some impossible times, but I don't think my old heart could take losin' you too."

Beth sighed and nodded.

Morgan had told her about his wife, Jenny, and Duane. He didn't go into detail, but Beth knew enough to understand that she wasn't the only one that viewed their relationship as 'all they had left' in the world.

"I'll be more careful next time," Beth murmured.

Morgan smiled and removed his hand from her hair.

There was a heavy silence and Beth peeked out of the corner of her eye to see Daryl still leaning against the wall, looking as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him.

"You ready to meet your sister?" Morgan's question caught her by surprise.

Beth snapped her eyes back to the older man and could feel the color draining from her face. The idea of meeting someone who had once, and still technically _was, _a part of her family made Beth feel uneasy. Her situation hadn't seemed to matter to the people she'd come across so far, however they'd only known her for a short time. This person had been with her since the day she was born. The pressure she felt to be who her sister wanted was overwhelming.

"Uh, yeah," she glanced at Daryl, "I'm jus' gonna' finish up here. Where d'you wanna' meet?"

"I got us all moved in to a house down the road," Morgan explained, "take a left down the road and it's the third house on the left. Maggie, Glenn, and their little one are there waitin'."

Beth forced herself to keep her voice even, "Left and third on the left. Got it. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Morgan furrowed his brows, looking her over, before nodding and leaving the room.

Beth took a deep breath and hung her head. She could hear Daryl move from where he leaned against the wall, his footsteps thundering in her ears, and felt his presence in front of her. Looking up from the hole she was trying to burn into the floor, she met his crystal blue eyes.

"Maggie felt 'ah lot of guilt after you were gone," Daryl's coarse voice rumbled through the room, "Glenn tried t'help, but she jus' felt like she had nothin' left. Then she found out she was pregnant and things changed 'ah bit."

"Were we close?" Beth found herself asking despite everything she felt.

"Yeah," Daryl breathed and continued, "When tha' prison fell and we got separated, you kept me goin'. You were the one who kept tellin' me everyone was still alive. Then when you got taken, I believed you were still alive. I owed you that much."

"So Maggie thought I was dead?" She assumed from where he seemed to be leading their conversation.

"I dunno' what Maggie thought t'be honest. Ain't really my place to talk for her," Daryl's jaw tightened, "but she's not gonna' be disappointed if that's what you're worried about."

"A little," Beth admitted, "I'm not really good at dealin' with people."

Daryl laughed, "Better'n me."

Beth found herself smiling.

"You bein' alive is enough," Daryl declared softly, "When I put that cross with your name on it in tha' ground…I thought it was the end."

"That's usually how it works," Beth acknowledged.

"Maggie's not gonna' be disappointed," Daryl repeated, "She's gonna' be happy that she's gettin' a second chance t'be your sister."

Beth felt her heart swell ever so slightly. She hadn't thought of it that way. She had been so consumed with how different she might be that she hadn't taken into account that the fact she was still alive would mean more than anything else to some people. She also couldn't help but think that Daryl's words about her sister might have applied to him as well.

"Thank you," Beth reached out with trembling, unsure fingers and took his hand, "I needed to hear that."

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to reach out for him, but it had just come naturally, as if she'd needed to express her gratitude through contact. His fingers wrapped around hers and the feel of his calloused skin was soothing. The intensity of his eyes was the same as the day she'd met him outside the gates and Beth had to remind herself to breath.

"I got somethin' I wanna' give you," he tugged her out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room.

"What?" She asked when he released her hand.

She watched as he crossed the living room and opened a trunk sitting in front of the large, bay windows. He opened it, rifling through for a moment, before pulling out something and closing the lid. He approached her, holding out a long knife in a black, leather sheath.

"This was yours," he placed the knife in her hands.

"Mine?" She asked; confused.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"From _before_?" She probed further.

He nodded and smirked, "I bought it at some shit pawn shop when my brother was sellin' some stuff he'd…found."

"Then it was yours?" The crease between her eyebrows deepened.

"Was. I let you keep it after you took 'ah likin' to it. You didn't give me much choice," his smirk turned into a lazy grin.

"Thanks," she said while keeping her eyes on the weapon in her hand.

"Figured you could use it since ya' lost your other one," Daryl tipped his head toward the smaller sheath hanging on her hip without a knife.

Undoing her belt and replacing her empty sheath with the knife Daryl had just given her, she felt more comfortable with the change of weight on her side. Retightening her belt, Beth pulled her shirt back over the hem of her pants and smoothed it out. She needed a fresh change of clothes, but everything she owned was in a house where people she didn't know we're expecting her.

"I'd better get goin'," she murmured, her eyes dancing between his.

"Yeah," he nodded.

They stared at each other a few more moments before he dropped his gaze and led her to the front door.

"I was wrong the other night," she said while standing in the doorway.

Daryl's questioning look told her she needed to explain.

"When I told you I didn't think there were any good people left in the world," she elaborated, "I was wrong."

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't look uncomfortable, rather he seemed unsure of how to reply, and thus he remained silent.

Turning to leave, she made it down the steps of his porch before he called to her.

"Hey Beth," his voice stopped her.

"Yeah?" She answered over her shoulder.

"Yesterday," he paused, "We haven't seen a herd that big in a while. People get lazy, too comfortable, and shit like that happens."

She blinked, waiting for him to continue.

"What you did…most people would've looked out for themselves," he rubbed the back of his neck as he fumbled through his statement, "You always worried about other people more'n yourself, even _before_."

"Oh," she exhaled, feeling unsure of how to reply much like she thought Daryl must have at her statement a moment ago.

"If tha' walkers had reached the wall, even with tha' trenches we've dug and the barriers we've made, if they had reached tha' wall," he shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped out of the shade from the porch, "You saved us a lot 'ah trouble."

"You woulda' done the same," she replied with a shrug.

"Yeah," his voice even, "I woulda'."

She smiled, a genuine smile, and turned back towards the road.

Kicking a few rocks with her foot, she brushed her fingers against the soft, worn leather of the knife she'd once owned. Her eyes flickered over the handle, examining every knick and scratch, wondering where they all came from.

Reaching the third house on the left, Beth stood in front of the broken fence, and took a steadying breath. Maybe Daryl was right. Maybe her being alive would be enough and the people inside would just be happy that they had the opportunity to start afresh. Maybe she shouldn't worry so much about how _different_ she might be and just live her life the way she wanted. She'd never put much thought into what her future held, knowing that the sun would set and rise again and their struggle to survive would continue. Here though, behind the steel walls of Alexandria, she might actually have a chance to experience the things she couldn't remember. She could reconnect with the people she'd lost in her memories and make a home for herself. The idea that the world didn't have to be the dark, cruel place she'd accepted made her feel lighter and a foreign sensation slowly began capturing her heart.

_For the first time…Beth had hope._

…

**A/N: **So after long last I finally give you Beth's perspective! I wanted to wait until the story was more established because I wanted to mystery of what Beth felt to be left to the reader's interpretation and what we saw of her through Daryl and Morgan. I intended it this way so that Beth would be a stranger to us as well as Daryl. If we knew how she felt (in general) it would ruin some of the anticipation when we finally got to read how she feels about everything. So this was a Beth centric chapter and from here on it will be strictly from Daryl and Beth's perspectives. Very rarely will I have a Morgan POV unless the scene calls for an outside perspective looking in on Bethyl. Hope this chapter was to your satisfaction! Let me know what you think!

The knife scene was for **Smudge** (on AO3)! I promised her a picnic, but wanted to surprise her with the knife scene! If you have any scenes from TWD (past seasons or not) that you would like me to try and incorporate, just PM me or leave it in a review and I'll do my best to fit it in the story if a scene allows!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED! **Nicole has been feeling under the weather, much as I have the past few days, but I still somehow managed to get this chapter wrote! With her not feeling good, I didn't want to bother her with editing so whenever she's feeling better, she'll catch all my little mistakes and get them back to me!

**Also**, jumping back and forth between H.O.P.E. and Sometimes When Things Go Wrong... has been really effecting my writing juices. Lol. Just as I get going in one story, I'm having to switch gears into a completely different universe. It's _really _hard. So as much as I didn't want to, one story is going to have to take precedence over the other. I also HAVE to get one of these stories finished if I'm ever going to be able to start For the Ones You Protect when season 5 is over. So I've decided that I will focus my 2 week posts on H.O.P.E. and update Sometimes When Things Go Wrong... as I finished a chapter. I WILL STILL BE WRITING it, but I won't have a set schedule like I do with H.O.P.E. Thank you guys for understanding and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

...

Standing in front of the entryway, Beth took a deep breath. The soft glow of candle light illuminated the windows and she could hear voices behind the thin, discolored walls. She reached for the doorknob, but hesitated when he fingers grazed the tarnished, brass veneer. Letting her hand fall to her side, she took a step back. Beth had come to terms with what awaited her inside, but actually standing in front of the door, she was uneasy all over again. It wasn't the same sickening dread she had felt before, thanks to Daryl, but more uncertainty of what these people expected of her.

She could deal with hoards of walkers. She could sleep on the ground with only the stars as her blanket. She knew how to dismantle and clean her pistol with her eyes closed. She had become quite proficient at her machete, the blade becoming an extension of her arm, but dealing with the living was out of her comfort zone. It was different with Morgan though. She didn't have a single memory that did not include the older man. When Morgan had asked her whether she wanted to stay or leave Alexandria, she desired nothing more than to march out of those gates and back into their world…_her_ world. However, Morgan was not a product of the apocalypse, not like she was. She felt more 'at home' sitting in the middle of the woods with a blade strapped around her arm and her senses honed in on her surroundings. _Not_ sitting in a room with a bunch of strangers.

No one had asked her if she wanted to meet the people waiting inside for her. No one had bothered to question whether she wanted to reconnect with her past and learn about herself. Morgan had said she _needed _to learn about who she was, but she felt like he wanted to know more than she did. Truth be told, Beth didn't want to meet with anyone. She saw no advantage to learning about her 'past self' and ascertaining information about a person who no longer existed didn't interest her.

Reaching for the brass handle once more, she twisted the knob and slowly opened the wooden door. The hinges creaked in protest, alerting everyone in the house of her presence as she closed the door behind her. She looked down to see Morgan's shoes placed neatly beside the door. Following suit, she slid her feet out of her boots and placed them beside Morgan's. She then glanced around, taking a few steps into the room, before an unfamiliar woman stepped into view.

Beth froze.

Making an educated guess, she knew this person had to be her 'sister' Maggie, but Beth felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in as a surge of panicked adrenaline flooded her system nonetheless. The woman just continued to stare, face drained of any color, mouth slightly agape, and eyes boring into her so raptly that Beth had to force herself to keep the stranger's gaze. Beth felt herself lifting up on her toes, the sense of fight or flight becoming too much to resist, when her name was spoken.

"Beth?" The visitor's voice was soft, yet just as foreign as everyone else she'd met.

"Yeah?" Beth breathed softly.

"I can't…" the woman took a few unsteady steps toward her before stopping to lean against the couch, "You don't remember me?"

Beth shook her head.

An unsteady hand covered her trembling lips and she swallowed air for several moments before she was able to continue, "I'm Maggie. I'm…" she moved her hand to her chest, as if to hold herself upright, "I'm your sister."

Beth wasn't sure how to respond. It was obvious that Maggie was distraught by the sight of her and anything she replied with would be hugely underwhelming in comparison to Maggie's raw sincerity.

"…Okay," she finally mumbled.

Maggie took several short, feeble breathes as sobs wracked her body. Pushing off the clothed furniture, Beth watched as her 'sister' cautiously made her way across the room. Suddenly feeling like she was being hunted, Beth clenched her teeth together and willed herself to remain impassive, but her sharp eyes took in every move her 'predator' made. When she was within arm's length, Maggie reached out to her and Beth immediately took a step back.

"I can't believe it's really you," Maggie chocked as tears fell from her eyes, "I thought I'd lost you."

Beth's eyes danced between the older woman's.

"I wanted to come see you so bad after the other day…" her voice trailed off, "but if you woke up while I was there, I didn't want t'overwhelm you."

Taking a deep breath, Beth planted her feet against the dusty, wooden floor as Maggie's shaky fingers grazed over the scar on her cheek. The sensation made Beth feel uneasy. She realized that Maggie had no malevolent intentions, but generally when her skin was being touched, it was by cold, dead fingers or warm hands committed to doing her harm.

Before she could react, Maggie wrapped her arms around her and held her so tightly that Beth struggled to inhale. She could hear the older woman crying into her hair and rather than push away like she so desperately wanted to, she kept her hands clenched by her sides. This person was her 'family,' but being hugged by a complete stranger wasn't something Beth was used to experiencing.

When Maggie's grip weakened and her sobs increased, Beth did the only thing she knew and reached up to awkwardly pat Maggie's back. It was the same gesture Morgan used on her when she was on the brink of tears and it had always been enough to keep her from crumbling. With Maggie's face still buried in her messy braid, Beth glanced around the room for any signs of Morgan.

There was some simple furniture, a few small toys scattered around the room, and a gate in front of the stairway, but the room was void of anything else. It was then that she noticed Maggie's tears had subsided and she began to pull away, keeping her hands braced against Beth's shoulders, and gently sliding them down her arms to entangle their fingers.

"Do you know what happened?" Maggie asked with a broken voice.

"No," Beth's fingers ached under Maggie's grasp.

"I can-"

"I don't want to know," Beth interrupted coolly.

"Alright," Maggie smiled tightly; keeping her lips pressed together, "Do you remember anything? Anythin' at all?"

"No," Beth subtly pulled her fingers from Maggie's hold.

"I'm sorry," Maggie's voice broke, "I am _so_ sorry Beth."

Beth shrugged a shoulder, trying to downplay the situation, "Its fine. There's no reason for you t'be sorry about somethin' I don't even remember."

"I should've looked for you," Maggie pressed despite Beth's dismissal, "If I had believed Daryl. Maybe…" Maggie's hands flew to her face and her shoulders heaved violently.

"Hey," Beth timidly reached forward, "I umm…it's fine. Really. _I'm_ fine."

A man peeked around the corner in time to see Maggie crumple to the floor. Not sure of what to do, Beth stepped back and let him approach the inconsolable woman. He eventually got her to her feet and escorted her to another room. Having a moment to herself, Beth collapsed on the couch and pulled Daryl's…_her_ blade from its sheath. Placing the point into her index finger, she twirled the handle slowly with her other hand, admiring the glint of the candle light as it reflected off the blade.

"She just needs 'ah minute," the man spoke up as he lingered in the hallway.

Beth nodded.

"I'm Glenn…by the way," he added with a quick wave.

"You already know who I am I suppose," Beth sighed.

"Well, kinda'," Glenn stepped into the room, "I mean, I know your name."

Beth stopped twirling the knife and looked over at him as he crossed in front of her to sit on the other end of the couch.

"I know who you are…or who you _were_?" He fumbled with his words, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "It's weird."

Beth quirked a brow and waited for him to continue.

"You're still _you_, but you're not the _you_ that I knew," Glenn elaborated, "That's the kind of crazy stuff you see in sci-fi movies."

"Sci-fi?" Beth asked.

"Science fiction," Glenn lifted his head to look at her, "Space travel..aliens…Iron Man?"

Beth creased her brows.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?" Glenn huffed and dropped his head.

"Sorry," Beth murmured.

"No. It's fine," Glenn immediately replied, "It's not your fault."

"I wouldn't know," Beth blurted out and quickly bit the inside of her lips together.

There was an awkward silence and she went back to twirling the knife against her finger as a distraction.

"I thought I was going to lose Maggie after you…" Glenn cleared his throat, "She got really low."

Beth paused, looking at the reflection of her eyes in the steel she was holding.

"You guys had lost your farm and all your people, then your dad, and when the prison fell we were all scattered," Glenn began, "I never stopped looking for her. I _knew_ she was out there, somewhere, alive and looking for me. I always thought the two of you would be together. She got off the bus to look for you."

Beth had no idea what 'bus' he was referring to, but she wasn't sure whether she wanted to stop him or let him continue. The more she learned, the more she was able to connect certain dots, and that terrified her.

"When we found each other and you weren't with either of us, I think she held out hope that you would be with the rest of the group," Glenn continued, staring down at his hands intently, "Then Daryl told us you were taken-"

"All of this happened to 'ah different person," Beth interjected, "There's no reason t'dig up old wounds."

"But don't you want to know what happened?" Glenn stared at her perplexedly.

"No," Beth said firmly, "Whatever happened…it's done. Whoever I may have been, that's not who I am now. Is it?"

Beth wasn't asking because she wanted to know. She was making a point. In what had made her anxious in the beginning, knowing she wasn't the same person her 'family' was expecting, now seemed pertinent that it be made aware that she _wasn't_ Beth Greene. This wasn't just some bout of amnesia. She had _barely_ survived what should have been a fatal wound. She was _damaged_ and there was no way to 'fix' her. She wouldn't magically get her memories back and she didn't want them holding out false hope for such a miracle to occur.

"No," Glenn sighed, "I supposed you're not."

The shuffling of feet caught Beth's attention and she looked up to see Maggie had returned. She looked much more composed and was carrying a small, sleeping child in her arms. Quickly putting her knife away, Beth scooted over to allow Maggie enough room to sit in between them.

"This is your nephew," Maggie said while smiling at the slumbering child she cradled, "Hershel."

"We decided to name his after-"

"Our dad," Beth finished Glenn's sentence for him, earning expectant looks from the both of them, "Daryl told me."

Maggie seemed to deflate some, but her smile remained.

From the timeline she was aware of, being separated from everyone here, she surmised the child to be around three or four, with a tuft of black shaggy hair, and olive skin. He was holding a blanket in one hand and his other arm was draped lazily over Maggie's bicep. Beth hadn't been around children, save for her recent run in with Judith, and it surprised her how small people could actually be.

"We were talkin' with Morgan earlier," Maggie interrupted her thoughts.

"About what?" Beth found herself asking.

"We're in charge of another colony called Hilltop. It's about 'ah day's ride from here," Maggie informed her, "It's a lot like Alexandria. We have walls, houses, an' we live with the exact same structure as what Rick has implemented here."

"Sounds nice," Beth responded absently, unsure what any of that had to do with her.

"We want you t'come back with us," Maggie revealed hastily, "We're family. We should be together. I _want_ us t'be together again."

"What…about Morgan?" Beth furrowed her brows.

Maggie glanced at Glenn.

"He's stayin' here…isn't he?" Beth deduced from their exchange, "He wants t'help Rick."

"I will never be able to thank Morgan enough for everythin' he did for you, but _we're _family Beth," Maggie implored, "I get a second chance at bein' your sister. You deserve for me t'be better to you than I was."

Beth quickly rose from her seat, "Morgan_ is_ my _family_. I'm not goin' anywhere without him."

"We're not forcin' you to do anything," Glenn interjected, "We talked to Morgan and he said he would agree to whatever you decided. We just wanted you to know that we want our family to be together again."

Beth clenched her jaw and breathed in through her nose.

_Of course_ Morgan wasn't going to stand in the way of Beth reuniting with her 'real' family. He had encouraged her from day one to try and discover more about herself. He wanted what was best, or what he _thought_ was best, for her. Even so, it didn't stop the sting of betrayal that crept its way from her heart and thrummed in her ears.

"You don't have t'say anything right now," Maggie said gently, "but will you at least think about it?"

Beth took a moment to calm herself, giving a curt nod.

"We love you Beth," Maggie's eyes began filling with new tears, "I just want t'do right by you."

Beth nodded, refusing to be wavered by her 'sisters' emotions, "I've been doin' fine on my own."

Maggie's expression faltered, but she managed to nod and Beth felt her stomach twist into a knot.

"I've had a long past few days. I'm gonna' get some sleep," she sighed, wanting desperately to escape the looks she was receiving from the two sitting on the couch.

"Well talk in the morning then," Maggie said with a watery smile, "Sweet dreams Bethy."

Beth's eyes darted between Maggie and Glenn before she flashed a grim smile and sought out her room.

She opened the doors to a hall closet and a dingy bathroom before she found a room with a small bed. Her bag sat in the middle of the mattress and her forearm machete lying next to it, still attached to her bandolier. Plopping down next to her things, dust flitted through the beams of light projecting from the candle on her bedside table.

It upset her that Morgan left her to fend for herself, knowing her disposition when it came to meeting new people, but she supposed she understood his intentions. She could only assume that he had wanted to make sure whatever decision she made was not influenced by his presence. Although she thought he had known her well enough to know that the decision had been made before the question had even been prompted. Morgan was her 'family.' Maggie and Glenn may have been blood relatives, but they were a long way from sharing anything close to the sort of sentiment she felt when it came to Morgan.

Alexandria suddenly felt like a prison and Beth had an overwhelming urge to breakout.

There would be no discussion in the morning. She already had an answer. She had no intention of going anywhere without Morgan and she had come to find a few people…_interesting _within the walls of this community. With her mind made up, Beth rifled through her bag and pulled out a few rations she'd kept from half eaten meals in the mess hall. Pulling her bandolier over her head and adjusting it to its proper place over her chest, Beth quietly opened the window to her room and stepped out into the darkness.

As she stealthily ran for the back of the wall, she could taste the cool night air on her tongue. Quickly ascending the support beams to the top of the wall, she then climbed down the thick vines and foliage that had grown up the walls since the years they had been erected. The sneaking out had started as a onetime occurrence. She had wanted to get out of their fortress just to prove to herself that she _could_, without being caught. She had planned on walking back in through the gates, knowing she would attract people's attention and never be able to sneak out again. However, on her way back, she'd seen the vines and overgrowth. Deciding to test their strength, she'd yanked on the nature-made ropes and when they didn't budge, she began climbing up the wall. From them on, she had a way to get in and out of Alexandria and none was the wiser. At least until Morgan had figured out what she was doing.

Letting go of the vines, she landed on the rusted, dented roof of a truck that had been pressed against the wall for an added obstacle. Beth never felt freer than when her feet touched the muddy earth and she began to run. The first few sprinkles of rain pelted her skin as she sprinted for her tree stand, intent on sitting in her haven until long after the sun rose. She was suddenly very thankful she hadn't told Daryl about her hiding spot. For the time being, she just wanted to be left alone.

…

He was checking with Dwight on some maintenance that needed to be done on the west side of the wall when the first gunshots were fired. Everyone's attention immediately turned to the trees. It was a few moments later when he saw _her_, tousled blond hair and wild blue eyes, bursting out of the woods.

"What tha' hell is she doin' out there?" Dwight asked beside him.

The walker's emerged soon after and the entire wall fell into chaos. Daryl started barking orders, Dwight ran to get more people to defend the wall, and gunshots continued to blare in the background.

"She's got one on her!" Someone yelled.

Daryl had never felt more helpless, watching Beth fighting a hoard of walkers and being too far away to help.

"I got 'er," Sasha answered further down the wall, lifting her sniper rifle and taking out the undead just before it reached the younger blond.

Daryl heaved a sigh of relief. With Sasha at the wall, there was a chance he could fight his way down to Beth and get her to safety.

"How many?" Rick hollered from the ground, chest heaving and hair disheveled from sleep.

Daryl began climbing down the ladder, "It's a fuckin' _herd _Rick. Where tha' hell is Byron and why didn't report we had a herd comin' for us?"

"I don't know, but I fully intend on findin' out," Rick said gravely as Daryl stepped off the ladder.

More people began pouring out of houses, alarmed by the commotion, and Daryl scanned the crowd for Dwight. The man's scarred face was easy to pick out of a crowd, but he was nowhere in sight and Daryl didn't have the luxury of time. He needed to get to Beth _now_.

"Open tha' gates," Daryl yelled over to the two men in charge of pulling the chains that controlled the large, steel doors.

"Sasha! We got some goin' outside the gate," Rick yelled to the top of the wall, "Cover 'em."

Sasha pulled back the lever of her rifle, reloading the gun, "Tell them to hurry their asses up."

"Get 'er and get back," Rick said solemnly, placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder and ushering him toward the gate.

Daryl took two steps outside before he heard his name being yelled. Turning back he could see Dwight running towards him with a handful of his more experienced shooters.

"You thought I'd let you let you have all tha' fun?" Dwight snickered as they ran towards the tree line.

"Couldn't afford t'wait," Daryl replied with his eyes trained on Beth.

She was sluggish, barely able to lift her blade, and he knew she was on the verge of collapsing. He yelled for her, but he knew his voice was lost between the shots being fired and the chaos around them. He panicked when he realized she hadn't noticed the walker approaching her from left. He tried hollering for her once more, but his attempts were in vain. She spun at the last minute, throwing the arm covered in the metal brace of her weapon up just in time for the corpse to bite down on her blade.

He willed his legs to move faster, but it suddenly seemed like the more speed he gained, the farther away Beth was from him. The world around him dimmed, engulfing him in darkness, and he forced himself to push harder. He could see that she was losing the battle. She was exhausted and the only thing keeping the walker at bay was a thin slice of metal.

He could no longer hear the bullets whizzing past him or Dwight's voice giving orders. There was only complete silence. He tried to scream for her, but his words stayed lodged in his throat. He wasn't covering any distance. It was as if he was running in place and Beth was just out of reach. His eyes widened as Beth's arm gave way to the teeth gnashing on her machete. His vision turned crimson as the walker tore into her throat.

A scream pierced the air.

…

Daryl shot up in his bed. A scream erupted from his lips as he fumbled to get the sheets off of him and clambered up his bed, into the wall. His chest heaved and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest as his eyes darted frantically around the room. Once obtaining his surroundings, he let his muscles go lax when he realized it had all be a dream.

Burying his face in his hands, Daryl tried to get his breathing under control. The sun was filtering through his window, but from its height in the sky as it peeked over the roofs of the houses, he calculated that he'd only been a few hours since he'd returned home. He knew he should try to get a few more hours of sleep, but after his most recent nightmare, he grimaced at the thought.

His night had continued as usual after Beth left. He'd eaten a quick meal, taken a shift along the wall until the early hours of the morning, and then dragged his feet home where he'd collapsed on his bed, still in his clothes. While immune to his own scent, he couldn't help but noticed the subtle hint of an aroma he had never thought he'd smell again, each time he inhaled. Beth had slept in his bed the past three days, so it should have come as no surprise that her fragrance permeated his sheets, but he'd found himself breathing in deeply nonetheless. He'd been able to fall asleep with an unfamiliar sort of ease and had hoped for a dreamless slumber. However his dreams had taken a new turn, replaying the recent events of the herd attack and manipulating them into his worst fear; he had once again been too late to save her in his dream.

A knock on his door suddenly caught his attention and Daryl sighed. Running his hands through his hair, he got out of bed and sluggishly removed his clothes from the previous day. Knowing Dwight was the only one brave, or stupid enough to wake him so early, he languidly gathered a new set of garments. Once dressed in a clean pair of pants, he grabbed a stained, gray t-shirt and shuffled down the hall as another set of knocks persisted. Opening the door, not bothering to put on his shirt, Daryl was blinded by the early morning sunshine.

"Dwight, man," rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms, Daryl grumbled, "you gotta' stop waking me up so early when I got night shift."

When no reply came, he blinked his eyes open to see not Dwight, but Morgan standing on his porch.

"Sorry for callin' on you so early in tha' mornin'," Morgan said politely, but his body language exuded anxiety.

"Nah. 'S okay," Daryl pushed the hair out of his eyes and stood a little straighter, "What's goin' on?"

"Is Beth here?" Morgan cut right to the chase.

"No," Daryl shook his head.

"Damn," Morgan ran a hand over his face, "She musta' snuck off again."

"What happened?" Daryl asked while quickly slipping on his shirt as he grabbed his crossbow by the front door and stepped out on the porch.

"Last night," Morgan sighed, "Apparently things didn't go as well as I'd hoped they would. I woke up an' Beth wasn't anywhere t'be found."

"You check around?" Daryl questioned as he scanned the community with sharp eyes.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, "She ain't here."

Daryl clenched his jaw. Beth was still recovering from the last time she had ventured outside the walls. With his nightmare still weighing on his mind, Daryl felt as anxious as Morgan looked.

"She's been…sneakin' out," Morgan's tone dropped quiet enough for only Daryl to hear.

"I know" Daryl admitted smoothly

Morgan nodded and further explained, "When this place gets t'be too much for her, she sometimes runs off somewhere. She won't tell me where she goes though. She knows I'd go after her if she did," he sighed deeply, "I'm gonna' start lookin' in tha' woods and-"

"I'll find 'er," Daryl declared, cutting him off.

"I'm partly responsible for her runnin' off," Morgan countered, "I can't ask you t'risk yourself goin' out there."

"She'd never forgive herself if soemthin' happened t'you," Daryl retorted, "'Sides, I know tha' area better'n you."

Morgan dropped his head, "Thank you."

Daryl patted the man's shoulder and moved around to walk down the steps of his porch before Morgan stopped him once more.

"When you find her…will you tell her somethin' for me?" He asked still standing on the porch.

Daryl's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Tell her…choices, chances, and changes," he continued vaguely, "She'll know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Alright," Daryl agreed, "I'll let 'er know."

Morgan gave a faint smile and with the conversation over, Daryl moved towards the gates of Alexandria.

…

He traveled through the woods, stepping over the twice dead bodies, as he advanced towards his deer stand. He stayed low to the ground, keeping his footsteps silent while maneuvering through the trees and around the underbrush. He had counted at least a dozen bodies along the way. Had circumstances been different, he would felt more impressed instead of trepidation at the knowledge that Beth had been out here, _by_ _herself_, fighting for her life.

Stepping lightly on the fallen leaves, Daryl was slightly surprised to see the dead around the tree in which his deer stand had been built were already neatly piled together. Only two people knew where his hideaway was located, Rick and Dwight, but he obviously needed to add one more name to that list. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or relieved when he saw tendrils of golden hair peeking around the tree, but he decided to just be content with the fact that he'd found her uninjured.

"Morgan send you?" Her voice floated through the air.

"He told me you had snuck out again," Daryl admitted, "but I came lookin' for you on my own."

Daryl saw a flash of blue as she looked down at him, "How'd you find me?"

Daryl smirked and began climbing the short, wooden boards he'd nailed in the tree to act as a ladder, "You happen t'be sittin' in my deer stand."

"It's nice up here," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the morning sun.

"Why I picked this spot t'build it," Daryl agreed, stepping onto the small wooden deck.

Beth scooted over, revealing half of the wooden board he used as a seat, and Daryl carefully sat down beside her. Daryl felt apprehensive being so close to her. He'd carried her back to Alexandria, depositing her in the infirmary so that the town doctor could give her a once over, but he hadn't had time to focus on the warmth of her skin or how much he'd missed the way she smelled. Sitting next to her now, he recognized_ everything_.

"You gonna' ask me why I'm here?" She broke the silence first.

"You gonna' tell me?" He countered, leaving the direction of the conversation to what she felt like revealing.

Beth sighed and Daryl held his breath. It had been over a week since Beth had reappeared in his life, but he still relished in the sound of her breathing. Breathing meant she was _alive _and he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he _hadn't _lost her…not _completely_.

"Maggie wants me t'go with them to Hilltop," Beth disclosed impassively.

"Figured she'd ask as much," Daryl replied sourly.

"You coulda' given me a heads up," Beth grumbled.

"Whadn't my place," he glanced at her.

"It's not mine either," Beth breathed, "She may be related t'me by blood, but she's a complete stranger. She's not my family."

Daryl may not have cared much for Maggie after the situation with Beth, but if their conversation last night had gone anything like this, he could only imagine how the older Greene had taken it.

"Morgan agreed to whatever I decided," Beth sagged against him.

"Course he did," Daryl leaned his elbows on his knees, subtly supporting her weight, "He wants what's best for ya'."

"Leavin' me t'discuss this sort of stuff with complete strangers when he knows that I'm not good with people?" Beth glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl smirked.

Sighing, Beth continued, "I know he wanted to give me some privacy with Maggie and didn't want me t'feel pressured with him bein' there or whatever, but he already knew what my answer would be tha' moment they discussed it with him."

"And what's your answer?" Daryl asked in an even tone.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Beth said with a finality that made Daryl's chest swell.

They sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the tranquility around them, and breathing in the cool morning air. It had rained during the night, covering the ground with a layer of mist, making everything seem iridescent in the rays of the sun.

"Morgan wanted me t'give you a message," Daryl's voice rumbled from how quietly he spoke.

Beth looked at him expectantly.

"He said t'remember choices, chances, and changes," he rambled the words out awkwardly.

Beth rolled her eyes.

"He said you'd know what it meant," he added, even more confused by her reaction than the message.

"Oh I know _exactly_ what it means," she muttered, "He's such a stubborn old man."

Daryl didn't want to ask, but he was curious as to what this private conversation he had relayed to her meant. She must have been able to read his expression because after heaving dejectedly she elaborated.

"Morgan has these…sayings," Beth explained after a moment of thought, "about life."

Daryl remained silent and waited for her to continue.

"He called it 'The three C's in Life; choices, chances, and change. He told me that 'we've all got t'make hard choices in life, but you have t'make a choice to take 'ah chance or your life will never change.' In other words," she drawled, "he's suggesting I take a chance…no a _risk_, and leave him behind t'go with my 'sister.' He's all about making sure I don't have any regrets. Says he has plenty enough for tha' both of us."

"Sounds like somethin' your old man said t'Rick once," Daryl looked from Beth down to his hands, "Said that everything we do in this world, we risk our lives, but tha' only thing we can choose is what we're riskin' it for."

"Sounds like my dad and Morgan would've gotten along," Beth laughed softly.

"Two old geezers tradin' wise man's tales," Daryl smirked.

"We're supposed t'respect our elders," Beth smiled, sitting upright and nudging him with her shoulder.

Daryl's breath left his lungs in a rush. For a split second, she had sounded _exactly _like _his_ Beth and her smile was the same she had given him a thousand times.

"That's what Morgan said anyway," she continued, oblivious to his reaction, "I've never been very good at it though,"

Taking a deep breath, Daryl snorted, "Yeah, me neither."

Silence resumed between them and Daryl pushed off of his knees and leaned back to rest his head against the rough bark of the tree.

"Do you mind…" Beth's voice trailed off.

"Hmm?" Daryl's rough voice hummed.

"You mind sharin' your tree stand?" She inquired hesitantly.

"Nah. You're welcome to it," Daryl blinked up at the fading leaves still attached to the branches above them, "I've gotta' make some adjustments though."

"Adjustments?" Beth's questioned beside him.

"Yeah," Daryl sat up and met her gaze, "Seat big enough for tha' both of us an' a few more support beams to hold our weight."

"You tryin' t'say something?" Beth's tone took a mischievous lilt.

"Yeah," Daryl smirked, "Twenty foot drop would hurt like a bitch if this thing fell out from under us."

"I'm sure it would," Beth's voice had lost its playful undertone.

Clearing his throat, realizing the sun was much higher in the sky than when he'd arrived, Daryl knew they needed to get back.

"I told Morgan I'd find you," Daryl informed her.

"And you did," she turned her eyes away from the sky to look at him, "but I suppose you're expectin' me t'go back with you?"

"'Less you want t'attract more attention to yer' sneakin' out. People were wonderin' how you got through the gates," Daryl replied, "Rick's pretty proud of our walls and it'll be my ass if he finds out we got someone not only sneakin' out, but also back _in_ without anybody noticin'."

"I think I caused enough trouble the other day," Beth sighed.

"You done better than our scouts," Daryl murmured as he began climbing down his makeshift ladder.

He waited for Beth to begin climbing down; his hands hover as she neared the ground in case she fell, and once they were both back on Earth, they began making the trek back to the Safe Zone.

"Thanks," she said beside him as they moved through the trees, "for listenin' to me and not sayin' anything."

"It's no big deal," Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"T'me it is," Beth said so quietly that he almost didn't catch it.

Daryl was trying to think of a reply when she continued.

"I can see why I liked you," she looked up at him, "when I knew you _before_."

Daryl kept his face neutral and turned away, feeling exposed until her scrutiny.

"You wouldn't be sayin' that if you remembered how much of 'ah piece of shit I was when I met you," Daryl admitted bitterly.

"Guess it's a good thing I don't remember then," he could hear the smile in her voice and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

"I suppose so," he finally glanced at her and was met with the same smile he'd seen in the deer stand.

As they got closer to the clearing, Beth stopped, and realizing she was no longer walking beside him, Daryl twisted around curiously.

"I gotta' go this way," she motioned toward the bushes beside her, "Otherwise they'll see me crossin' the field.

Daryl nodded, making a mental note of where she was crossing, "Alright."

"I'll go find Morgan, explain things t'Maggie. Mind if I bring my machete over later?" She asked, "If you still wanna' help me replace the lining?"

"Sure. I ain't gotta' do nothin' until this evenin' so just come by whenever," Daryl agreed with a nod.

"'Kay," she gave a small smile, "I'll see you later then."

He watched her maneuver down the path she'd created and once she was out of sight, he turned and exited the woods. When the gates of Alexandria came into view, he scanned the clearing for any sign of Beth, but there were no traces of her anywhere. Smirking, he trudged through the dry, dying weeds and eventually stepped onto the road made by the wagon's that came and went between communities.

Although the day had begun as a nightmare, he wasn't disappointed with the way it had ended. He'd found Beth, being able to keep his word to Morgan, spent the morning in one of his favorite places with someone who seemed to appreciate it as much, if not more, than he did, and even had arrangements to meet with her again after she'd finished up her family business.

Entering the gates and walking down the dirt path toward his home, Daryl glanced around the community that he had helped Rick shape. He passed by Dwight's house, waving as Sherry tending to her yard, and catching Dwight at the gate.

"You know," his second in command began, "one of these days you're not gonna' come back from outside those walls."

"I'll worry about that when it happens," Daryl replied smugly.

"Yeah and your ass will be leavin' me with a shit ton of extra work," Dwight sneered, "It's dangerous out there. I sure hope your lil' excursions are worth tha' risk."

Daryl looked back toward the gates, a small smile gracing his lips, "Yeah. They're worth it."

Sighing, Dwight patted his arm a few times, "Rick's got info on Byron. I told him I'd let you know when I saw ya'."

"I'll swing by 'fore I go home," Daryl replied, swatting Dwight's arm away.

"Alright man," Dwight turned back toward his yard, "I'll catch you later."

Daryl grunted a reply and proceeded down the road.

Dwight's words echoed in his thoughts. Daryl had a huge amount of responsibility to the people of Alexandria. His trips outside the wall were a risk, but a necessary one for his sanity. There were some many things that were out of his control and it had only gotten worse when the world fell into chaos. However, it was just as Hershel had said; nothing in life ever came without taking some sort of risk.

_'The only thing you can choose is what you are risking it for .'_

...

**A/N: **I used a combination of 2 quotes in this chapter during the scene when Beth explains Morgan's message to her through Daryl.

The first quote is: "_The 3 C's of Life: Choices, Chances, Changes.__You must make a choice to take a chance or your life will never change_." - Unknown.

The second quote is an altered version of: "_You step outside, you risk your life. You take a drink of water, you risk your life. And nowadays you breathe, and you risk your life. Every moment now...you don't have a choice. The only thing you can choose is what you are risking it for. Now, I can make these people feel better and hang on a little bit longer. I can save lives. And that's enough reason to risk mine." _- Hershel to Rick and Maggie in season 4 episode 3: Isolation.

Also, I know Morgan isn't THAT much older than Daryl…well…actually I don't. We don't know exactly how old Daryl is, but Morgan IS quite a bit older according to the websites I scoured. I'd even go as far as to say he's a bit older than Rick. Plus with everything Morgan has been through, it would age him mentally more so than physically. So I'm going to guesstimate he's probably at least a decade older and that gives Daryl plenty of room to joke about Morgan being an 'old geezer.'

As I said, I haven't been feeling great the past week, so I hope that doesn't reflect in my writing! Leave me some feedback and let me know what you thought about the chapter! XOXO


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED! **Nicole is in Vegas this weekend and since I'm posting a week early, I didn't think you guys would mind! : )

...

Climbing the fence and walking across the Alexandria to her 'new home,' Beth entered the house with a sense of apprehension. She knew the impending conversation would be uncomfortable, but it was unavoidable. Beth wasn't used to seeing people cry. She's only cried a few times, mainly out of frustration during her rehabilitation, and could only recall seeing Morgan shed tears _once_; during his brief explanation of losing his wife and then Duane a year or two later. Therefore, she wasn't sure if she dreaded the conversation more or the tears she knew Maggie would inevitably shed.

The small child Maggie had been holding was playing with a wooden, no doubt handmade, toy car on the floor. Glenn was sitting beside him while Morgan and Maggie were settled on the couch with their backs to her. Morgan rose from his seat and Maggie turned to give her an uncertain smile.

"Enjoy your trip?" Morgan asked with a hint of aggravation in his voice.

"As a matter of fact I did," Beth replied cheekily.

She refused to feel guilty from her momentary escape when he had left her to deal with the Maggie 'situation' by herself the night before. It may have been petty, but she felt it was only fair for him to be put in the same 'situation,' dealing with an upset Maggie, when they awoke to find her missing.

"Mmm hmm," Morgan hum with a slight frown, "Did you have a visitor? Or decide on your own that you'd been gone too long?"

Beth tilted her head, "What do you think?"

Morgan smiled, "I'm glad he found ya'."

"Yeah, yeah," Beth smiled and swatted his arm playfully.

Morgan's face fell and Beth took note of the deep lines of his face, "No more sneakin' out without tellin' me you're…sneakin' out."

She smirked as his choice of words, "I promise I'll let you know next time."

"Good," he took a step back nodded behind him, "They were worried too."

Beth glanced at Maggie and Glenn, both trying desperately to act as if they couldn't hear the conversation behind them, and slowly removed her bandolier slung across her chest.

"Are you…?" Her voice trailed off.

"I'll be right here," he answered her unfinished question as he took her machete from her.

She gave him a faint smile, "'Kay."

Taking a deep breath, she moved around the older man and took his seat on the couch.

"Hershel," Maggie called to the young boy, "C'mere sweety. I have someone I want you t'meet."

The child ignored her and continued playing with his car.

"Hershel Rhee," Beth noted the seriousness in Maggie's voice, "Right now mister."

"Listen to your mom," Glenn whispered and took the car from the boy.

Standing, the child grumbled and approached his mother, giving Beth a few shy glances.

"This is your aunt," Maggie motioned with one hand while wrapping the other around her son's waist, "This is Beth. My sister."

"Is she the Beth you tole' me about in my bedtime stories?" His innocent brown eyes looked from his mother to Beth.

Maggie let out a small laugh, "Yes. She's the same Beth that was taken by the bad men."

"She helped Mr. Noah get out," Hershel stated, looking back up at Maggie.

"Yes, yes she did," Beth thought Maggie sounded somewhat proud, "Why don't you go so hello?"

"Okay," the boy said with a nod and turned his gaze back to Beth.

It was odd hearing people talking about her, in her own presence no less, about instances she had no memory of. Though they may have been bedtime stories, they might as well have been fairy tales to Beth.

"Hi," Hershel said quietly focusing on a spot on the couch and flicking his brown eyes up to her every so often.

"Hi," Beth replied, feeling as awkward as the toddler looked.

She didn't know how she felt about children in the general sense. She hadn't had any issues with Judith, but that was the first and _only _experience she'd ever had with a child...that she could remember. However, if what people said about her past self was true, she seemed to be a 'natural' with little ones.

Taking a calming breath, Beth tried again, "So you're my nephew, huh?"

"That's what Momma says," his reply caught Beth off guard and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry," Maggie apologized, giving Hershel a look, "The kid says whatever he thinks."

"He's fine," Beth gave a genuine smile and turned back to Hershel, "So how old are ya' kiddo?"

"I'm three..." he concentrated and eventually showed her three short, chubby fingers, "and a half."

"Wow," Beth's lips curved at his pronunciation, "You're almost all grown up!"

"See Momma," Hershel turned to his mother, "I tole' you I wasn't a _baby_."

"Hershel, I never said you were _a_ baby-"

"Yes huh!" The younger boy interrupted Maggie, "You call me a baby _all_ the time. I kept tryin' to _tell_ you, I'm a big boy now," he finished and puffed his chest.

"Hershel Everett Rhee," Maggie scolded her son, "You'd better watch your tone young man."

The boy dropped his head and toed one of his shoes into the wooden floor, mumbling a quiet, "Yes ma'am."

Beth felt herself biting her lip, trying not to smile, as Hershel's attention returned to her.

"Momma said you live with Grandpa, up in Heaven," Hershel scrunched his face up at her, "Did you come'd back to visit?"

"Uh..." Beth's face fell and she glanced up at Maggie, who seemed just as perplexed on how to answer his question.

"Mr. Noah tole' me the story of how you helped him," Hershel continued, "He says you were _really_ brave."

"Mr…Noah?" Beth inquired and heard Morgan shuffle behind her.

"Yeah. He lives at home," the child informed her, "He makes sure the bad guys stay away from the walls. He plays with me too...when Momma and Daddy are busy."

"Sounds like he's an important guy," Beth smiled at the child's obvious admiration of 'Mr. Noah.'

"You should come see him," Hershel smiled toothily, "He always says that 'Ms. Beth was the prettiest girl he ever saw'd.'"

Beth's smile widened. Whoever this 'Noah' person was, she had no doubt that he would be mortified if he knew what her 'nephew' was telling her.

"Alright big guy," Glenn whisked his son off the floor, "Why don't we go outside and play while Mommy and Aunt Beth talk."

"Can we play that game with the ball again?" Hershel asked as Glenn walked them around the couch.

"Absolutely," Glenn enthused, "We gotta' work on your form if you're going to be the first quarterback of the new world."

Beth had no idea what Glenn was talking about, but she assumed that it wasn't anything of importance from the way Maggie rolled her eyes and laughed.

"He's somethin' else," Beth remarked good-naturedly.

"Kid's a handful," Maggie sniggered.

The room quickly sobered and Beth peeked over her shoulder to check on Morgan, who was casually leaning against the wall where she had left him. He motioned with his hand for her to 'get on with it' and Beth narrowed her eyes at him to tell him 'don't rush me.'

"So," Maggie broke the silence and regained Beth's attention.

"Yeah," Beth breathed.

The silence resumed and Beth tried not to fidget. When frustration finally won over patience, she decided to get the conversation over with.

"Look…Maggie," Beth began, "I know we're supposed to be 'family,' but I don't-"

"You don't have t'explain," Maggie lifted a hand and stopped her, "Morgan already talked t'me about it."

"He did?" Beth looked over her shoulder with less subtlety and found Morgan casually picking at his nails with a pocketknife; her bandolier hanging on his forearm.

"He'd already told me what happened, while you were recovering, about findin' you behind tha' church," Maggie blinked her eyes rapidly, "but this mornin' he told me…"

Beth found herself hanging on Maggie's every word.

Taking a deep breath and pressing her lips tightly together, Maggie straightened her shoulder and met Beth's stare, "He told me that for the past three years, all the two 'ah you have had is each other. He said that, when you woke up, you were like a child. Completely oblivious to the ways of the world now. He said he'd 'raised' you tha' best he could, taught you how t'walk, taught you how t'fight, and taught you how t'survive."

"He never gave up on me," Beth stated, "Which is why I'll never give up on him."

Maggie smiled, "I realize that my request for you t'come with us, back to Hilltop, was…so _selfish_. I'm sorry I did that to you. It wasn't until we talked this mornin' that I understood everything."

"Understood everything?" Beth wasn't exactly sure what Maggie was referring to.

"Understood that he views you as his lil' girl. He worries for you, takes care of you, an' dotes on you, just like Daddy did. You're in good hands with him," Maggie reached out and held her hand, "I jus' want you t'be happy."

Beth took a shaky breath, "I'm workin' on it."

Patting her hand, Maggie let go and sat up straight once more, "Good. The offer to come stay with us is _always _open. Whenever you want. Whenever you're ready."

"Thanks," Beth said with a smile, "Maybe-"

Glenn opened the door, Hershel propped against his hip, and interrupted Beth's statement.

Morgan pushed off the wall and inquired, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Glenn replied, "There's a guy here to see you two."

Beth looked to Maggie, "I'll be right back."

Maggie nodded and Beth rose from her seat, following Morgan into the front yard.

A man, clad in body armor and a rifle resting on his back, stood at the end of their walkway.

"Can we help you?" Morgan asked as they approached the stranger.

"Hope so mate," the man replied in an accent Beth had never heard before, "Names Cooper. You can call me Coop. I work under Dwight taking care of our scouts."

"Nice t'meet ya'," Morgan shook the man's hand, "Names Morgan and this here's Beth."

Cooper reached out and shook both of their hands, "Pleasure."

"There somethin' you need from us?" Morgan inquired earnestly.

"I got your names off tha' list Sherry had in 'er office. Said you two were looking to do some runs outside the walls," Cooper explained, "Wanted to know if the pair of ya' would be willin' to run a patrol down the southern roads?"

"Where tha' herd came from," Beth crossed her arms over her chest.

"That'd be the one," he nodded to her, "We need someone to replace Byron. Seems he won't be able to run patrols for us anymore."

They didn't need Cooper to explain why they required a new patrol. It was understood that when someone could no longer _do_ something, it generally meant they were no longer among the living.

"You want the both of us?" Morgan inquired, "I thought scouts usually made their runs solo?"

"Usually," Cooper admitted, "With tha' herd, we've been ordered to double up on the scouts making patrols outside the walls. That and it bein' the both of you's first time out, thought it'd be a better idea to send you together. You can decide who keeps the job when you're not such newbies."

"Newbies?" Beth scoffed at the notion.

Morgan ignored Cooper's jab and turned to Beth, "You up for it?"

"When d'we leave?" Beth's gaze drifted from Morgan to Cooper.

"Meet me at the stables in five. I'll be providin' a map, a herding horn, and have the stable hands get the horses ready while you get what you need here," Cooper informed them.

"How long will this take?" Beth asked, looking over her shoulder to Maggie and Glenn standing in the doorway.

"Couple of hours," Cooper rubbed his chin in thought, "Could take longer if you have to stop and rest your legs. It's a good twenty miles from Alexandria to the trade off point where the scouts of Hilltop patrol."

It was nearly noon and a couple of hours would have them back in Alexandria later in the evening. She had planned to meet with Daryl as soon as she finished talking with Maggie, but with the change of plans, she knew she wouldn't be making it back in time before whatever his plans were for the evening.

Cooper's voice cut into her thoughts when he continued, "The main road is reinforced, but you'll need to veer off into the woods and keep an eye out for mobs of those undead bastards. We want to keep them off the roads if at all possible."

In the years she'd spent getting reacquainted with the world; she had become a very capable tracker. It was something Morgan has shown her while hunting one day and she had picked up on it immediately. In time, they had gotten to the point where Morgan kept lookout and left the tracking solely to Beth. Her keen eyes saw things that Morgan might not have immediately caught and being smaller; it was less of a hassle for her to move through the brush.

"Good t'know," Morgan confirmed and added, "We'll meet you at the stables in 'ah few minutes."

"Good on ya' mate," Cooper said in mock salute and left Beth standing at the gate with Morgan.

When he was out of earshot, Beth whispered up to Morgan, "Why'd he talk so funny?"

Morgan barked out a sharp laugh and wiped a hand down his face trying to cover his smile, "He's…not form around here. Probably got stuck here when tha' epidemic took hold."

"So he couldn't just make a trip back where he came from?" Beth asked as they made their way back to the house.

Morgan chuckled once more, "Not unless he has 'ah boat…and a lotta' gasoline."

"Oh," Beth glanced over her shoulder, feeling sad for the man who would probably never get a chance to see him 'home' again.

"He's still alive," Morgan said as if reading her thoughts, "That counts for somethin'."

"Yeah," Beth turned back to doorway.

The walked up the steps and silence and met Maggie and Glenn still standing at the door with Hershel held between them.

"Everything alright?" Glenn echoed the words Morgan had asked him just moments before.

"We got asked t'make the patrol run down tha' southern roads," Beth explained.

"You refuse?" Maggie questioned, sounding hopeful.

"No. They need someone t'patrol the roads and I'd rather that someone be us," Beth said confidently, "We're used to it out there."

"When do you leave?" Glenn asked, hoisting Hershel higher on his hip.

"We have t'meet Cooper at the stables in five minutes," Morgan spoke beside her, "We should only be gone a couple 'ah hours. You're welcome t'stay here if you'd like."

"That's okay," Glenn replied, "We need to get back to Hilltop. This is the first time _both_ of us have been gone at the same time. We need to make sure the walls are still standing."

"Alright," Morgan nodded and looked down at Beth, "I'll get our bags. You say your goodbyes."

"'Kay," Beth nodded and took her machete from Morgan.

"It's was 'ah pleasure meetin' you two," Morgan announces, politely shaking Glenn's hand and giving Maggie and brief hug.

"Thank you for takin' care of my sister," Maggie squeezed and arm around Morgan's shoulder.

Stepping back, Morgan smiled and replied, "Most of the time it's her takin' care 'ah me."

"Thank you all tha' same," Maggie returned his smile.

Morgan maneuvered around them into the house and Beth was left standing on the porch with her 'family.'

"You be careful out there," Glenn held out his free hand and wavered, slowly reaching up to wrap it loosely around her shoulders.

Beth nodded and patted his back awkwardly.

"We'll probably pass each other on the road," Maggie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Beth's shoulders with more confidence than her husband had.

"Maybe," Beth reached up and timidly wrapped her hands around her sister's biceps, "We have to scout off the main road too."

Maggie stepped back and held Beth at arm's length, "You take care 'ah yourself."

"I will," Beth answered genuinely, "You guys too."

"We'll be fine with you patrolling ahead of us," Maggie said with a smile and dropped her arms from Beth's side, "Hershel, tell Aunt Beth goodbye."

Hershel, wooden car in hand, looked up and gave a toothy smile, "Bye."

"It was nice t'meet you," Beth reached out and ruffled his hair.

"We're going to say goodbye to our friends here and head out in an hour or so," Glenn announced, handing Hershel to Maggie.

"Alright," Beth acknowledged.

"Our offers always open," Maggie told her once more, "Don't be a stranger."

Beth smirked at the pun, realizing she and Maggie had a very similar sense of humor to her own and was just as proficient in the use of sarcasm.

Morgan emerged from the house a few moments later and with their goodbyes said, they headed to the stables to meet Cooper.

…

Daryl pushed opened the door to Rick's office, finding the older man hunched over his desk, flipping through paperwork.

Sitting his crossbow in the hall, he quietly knocked on the door, causing Rick to look up at him and wave him inside.

"Dwight said you got word on Byron," he explained while closing the door.

"I gave him 'ah brief rundown earlier," Rick affirmed.

"So what's tha' deal?" Daryl plopped down in a chair in front of Rick's desk, "How'd 'ah herd get by him?"

"We sent 'ah runner out yesterday t'check the roads," Rick began, "Dwight's findin' people who can fill the spot temporarily until someone can take the job permanently."

"Yeah?" Daryl stretched out his legs crossed his feet at his ankles.

"One of tha' guys found Byron hangin' from a tree, in the middle of the woods, about eight miles out," Rick slid a piece of paper across his desk, "he'd turned. What was left of his horse was found 'ah couple yards away."

"Suicide?" Daryl asked skeptically, "What tha' hell would he do that for?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Rick leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head.

"Guy has 'ah kid on tha' way," Daryl flung the report back on Rick's desk, "Ain't no way he'd cut out early."

"It doesn't sound right t'me either," Rick's eyes focused on a spot on the wall and Daryl recognized that his friend was going into 'cop mode.'

"Anyone else out there with him?" Daryl inquired.

"Not according t'Sherry's records. Just Byron," Rick replied, still staring into the distance.

"The fuck was he thinkin'?" Daryl grumbled and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, "You tell his old lady yet?"

"Rosita's friends with her," Rick cut his eyes from the wall back to Daryl, "She was in here when I explained things t'Dwight. She said she'd handle it."

Daryl nodded.

Daryl supposed it was probably best hearing such news from a friend rather than any of them. She was lucky in a way. Not everyone got such a luxury. In most cases, people witnessed the death of their significant other. He'd had the misfortune of finding his own brother, already turned, and he'd had to put an end to Merle's reanimation. _That_ was something he would _never_ wish even on his worst enemy. When his reflections began to veer towards Beth, the memory of her at Grady Memorial forever haunting him, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed his thoughts to the back of his mind.

"I've informed Dwight t'pay extra attention to tha' roads for 'ah while. There hasn't been any activity on tha' road to The Kingdom, but that doesn't mean there won't be," Rick commented and dropped his hands back on his desk while shifting in his chair.

Before Daryl could reply, Dwight burst through the door and quickly scanned the room.

"Daryl?" Dwight huffed, shutting the door behind him, before immediately blurting out an apology, "Daryl, man, I'm sorry."

Daryl stood and narrowed his eyes, "Sorry fer' what?"

"Look, I was busy with setting up shifts on the wall and asked Cooper t'find someone to run patrol on the southern roads," Dwight ran a hand over the scarred side of his face, "He went an' got the list from Sherry. He told her he needed tha' names of people who'd volunteered to work outside the walls."

"What're you gettin' at Dwight?" Daryl fisted his hands as every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation.

"They...she requested to work outside. She put her name down for the herders, runners, patrols, and everythin' else we got goin' on out there," Dwight shifted from one foot to another.

"_Who_?" Daryl asked, even though he already knew the person's name.

"…_Beth_," Dwight sagged in defeat, "It's my fault. I should've put off tha' scheduling and found somebody myself."

Daryl felt his nails digging into the toughened skin of his palms.

"I didn't know," Dwight tried to explain, "I had no idea she put her name down to work outside. If I had, I would've told them to cross her off the list."

Breathing deeply, Daryl felt heat radiating off of his skin. He wanted to punch something, namely Dwight, but he knew that would do nothing to help their situation and he respected the man too much to actually do so. Instead, he settled for grabbing the chair he'd just been sitting in and chunking it across Rick's office. The wooden seat clattered into the opposite brick wall and crumbled to the ground. Leaning over Rick's desk, knuckles white from how hard he gripped the lip of the counter, Daryl's chest heaved as he struggled with his anger.

Closing his eyes, he managed to focus enough to speak, "She by 'erself?"

"No. Cooper sent Morgan with her," Dwight replied from where he'd moved away from the door.

"How long they been gone?" Daryl stood and glared.

"Thirty minutes or so," Dwight answered honestly.

"We had someone found hangin' from 'ah tree," Daryl threw an arm out in the general direction of the roads, "'an they don't think to send out someone more patrol experience?"

"Daryl," Rick's tone placating, "We don't know if anything happened with Byron-"

"That's tha' point," Daryl interrupted, "We _don't_ _know _what happened."

Rick let him finish before continuing, "-and if we're bein' honest, Beth and Morgan are probably the best ones suited to be out there right now."

"What're you tryin' t'say?" Daryl spat.

"I'm sayin' that we've been livin' behind these walls for the past _three_ _years_," Rick elaborated, "We all remember what it's like t'be out there, but none of us are as sharp as we were three years ago. Beth an' Morgan haven't had any walls to protect them…they've had to _survive_. They travelled all tha' way from Georgia, just the two of 'em, to get here. They make this run and when they get back, I'll make sure Beth's name…that _both_ of their names are removed from outer wall duties."

Daryl's glare remained in place, but his anger had slightly subsided, "You make sure of it."

"You got my word," Rick replied firmly.

Daryl gave a nod and glanced at Dwight, standing across the room looking as guilt ridden as he'd ever seen the man. Having nothing more to say, Daryl stalked out of the room, grabbing his crossbow off the ground as he went. With determined steps, he marched straight towards the walls, and any notions of a relaxing evening working on Beth's machete were gone.

…

Placing a chair in the middle of the walkway along the top of the wall, Daryl had kept his gaze focused on the tree line all afternoon. When his eyes needed a break, he'd dropped his head and gnawed on his thumbnail until he'd torn the quick, stopping only when blood began trickling from the abused skin. The sun was still several hours away from setting, but there was still no sign of Beth.

"Becca saw you leave early this morning," Dwight announced coming up the ladder behind him, "when she was on guard duty."

"Glad she's observant," Daryl snarked.

"You had the night shift last night," Dwight huffed, "You gotta' be runnin' on fumes by now."

"'M fine," Daryl brushed him off.

"You need sleep, man," Dwight pressed.

Daryl was already on edge and the last thing he needed was someone nagging him to go _rest_ while Beth was out in the woods. _She _was the one who should have been resting. It'd only been a few days since she'd had her encounter with the herd and he knew she hadn't fully recovered yet.

"I said I'm _fine_," Daryl barked, glaring over his shoulder.

Dwight fidgeted, as if trying to decide whether to stand his ground or run, and Daryl refused to feel remorse for snapping at him.

"Any sign of 'em?" Dwight asked while he dragged a chair across the steel walkway and placed it beside him.

Daryl shook his head and glared down at his bloody nail.

"I know you two…" Dwight began, "I know Beth's import-"

"_Don't_," Daryl growled.

Daryl watched as Dwight's shoulders sagged beside him.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Daryl closed his eyes, and forced his anger down.

"Coop and I…we fucked up," Dwight grumbled and wiped a hand over his mouth.

Daryl didn't immediately reply. Lifting his head and opening his eyes, he reached for the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes. Tilting it sideways, a white stick slid into his hand, and he brought it up to his lips. He hesitated for a moment before offering the packet to Dwight. Lighting his cigarette, he passed the lighter to the man beside him and decided to make an attempt to rid the man of his guilt.

"It ain't on you, Dwight," Daryl exhaled smoke as he took another long drag of his cigarette, "If Beth wanted t'go, if she put her name on the list of jobs outside tha' wall, it ain't none of our business t'stop her."

Feeling his edge being dulled by the soothing sensation of nicotine filtering through his system, Daryl exhaled the smoke retained in his lungs. He'd had time to replay the conversation he'd had with Rick in his office at least a hundred times. His immediate reaction had been fear which had quickly turned into anger, confusion and doubt filtered in between, and finally he arrived at acceptance. His mind had played over all the possibly scenarios that could happen to her while on the road. He didn't like the fact that she had willingly but herself in danger, but wasn't in any sort of position to make decisions for her. There was also the fact that she wasn't _alone_ and even though he didn't want to admit it, Rick had a point; Beth and Morgan were the still used to living outside the walls. She'd survived three years out in the world, without him, and he'd just have to have faith that nothing would go wrong during their patrol.

"I just...I didn't know she was on the list," Dwight repeated barely above a whisper.

"I know, man," Daryl's eyes went back to the trees.

It was getting late into the afternoon. Maggie, Glenn, and their little ankle-biter, as Daryl had dubbed, him, had left several hours ago in their wagon. He supposed if something had happened, they would have rushed back to the safety of Alexandria's walls. Maggie may have been a lot of things, in his opinion, but she was a good mom. She would never endanger Hershel any longer than the time it took them to make the trip from walled community to the other.

"Are we good?" He could feel Dwight's eyes on him.

Inhaling deeply and burning the rest of his cigarette down to the filter, he plucked what was left from his mouth and dropped it onto the metal flooring. Smothering the still lit stick with his boot, he turned to Dwight.

"Yeah," he nodded a few times languidly, "We're good."

Dwight exhaled loudly, blowing smoke into the air, "Alright."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Dwight stood and pat Daryl's shoulder a few times. Daryl tore his eyes away from the greenery to look up at his second-in-command.

"I'm gonna' go check in with the guys on the northern wall," he said as he approached the ladder to climb down, "Make sure tha' roads to The Kingdom look clear."

Daryl nodded and tossed his hand up in a lazy wave.

"If you want someone to keep a lookout for ya'," Dwight offered as his feet sounded down the steps of the ladder, "Come and get me."

"Sounds good," Daryl replied loud enough for Dwight to hear.

Being alone once more, Daryl focused his attention back to the woods, willing two figures on horseback to appear on the road. When none came, he rubbed his face with his hands and resituated himself in his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. He had no intention of moving until Beth and Morgan rode through their gates. Steeling his nerves, he crossed his arms and continued to wait.

…

"Dar…"

Daryl felt something tugging at his consciousness.

"…ryl."

He furrowed his brows and tried to decipher what it was that he was hearing.

"_Daryl_."

His eyes flew open as he jumped in his chair.

"Hey…hey," a female voice said beside him, "It's just me."

Blinking his eyes, noticing the sun was slightly lower in the sky than he remembered, he turned his attention to the person sitting next to him.

"Carol?" He asked confusedly.

"That's my name," the older, pepper haired woman said with a teasing smile, "You fell asleep."

"Damnit," Daryl looked around for any signs of Beth and Morgan, "Have they…?"

"Not yet," Carol shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line, "I came up here to check on ya' and found you nearly falling out of your chair."

Daryl rubbed his face roughly, blinking away the haze of sleep that lingered, "Know how long I was out?"

"Well," Carol murmured, "I came across Dwight about an hour ago. He said I could find you up here. Asked me to check on you in 'ah bit."

"Not long then," Daryl sighed in relief.

Daryl dragged his eyes over the clearing below, scanning the line of trees for any movement. Worry had long since been eating away at him. He knew the run should have only taken four to five hours, less if they'd seen something and needed to rush back. That time limit had long since passed.

"I know Beth is a little…different," Carol spoke quietly, "But she's still _Beth._"

Daryl nodded, unsure of where Carol was going with her statement.

"What did you tell me that one time?" Her eyes darted back in forth as she looked towards the sky, lost in thought. "When we were following those cops? How'd you phrase it?"

He knew exactly which instance she was referring to.

"Ah," Carol focused back on him, "'She's tough. She saved herself.'"

Daryl bit the inside of his lip and listened as Carol continued.

"She survived being on her own at Grady. She survived being shot," Carol's tone turned mischievous at her final statement, "She survived _you_. I think she can handle a patrol run."

"You tryin' t'say something 'bout me?" Daryl side-eyed her.

"Nothin' you don't already know," Carol laughed and bumped his shoulder with her own.

Daryl let a small laugh escape his lips as he ducked his head down.

Silence resumed, but Daryl felt a little lighter than he had since talking with Rick. Carol hadn't said anything that he hadn't already concluded himself, but hearing both Rick _and_ Carol say that they believed Beth would return was a welcomed reassurance.

Standing, she ruffled his hair and glanced toward the woods, "I'd better…"

Daryl looked up when Carol didn't finish her sentence.

"Is that…?" Carol shielded her eyes with her hand.

"What?" Daryl rose from his chair and mimicked Carol's pose, scanning for what she had seen.

"There," Carol pointed toward what he thought might have been a walker.

He squinted his eyes, noticing the walker was dragging something behind it, and he quickly connected the dots.

"Son of 'ah bitch," Daryl swore, clambering down the ladder with Carol right behind him, "Go get Dwight an' then find the doc."

"On it," Carol said in a rush and took off towards the northern side of the wall.

Daryl hollered for the men on duty to open the gates and as soon as he could squeeze through, he was sprinting down the road. His lungs burned, still tasting the cigarette he'd had earlier, as he leapt off the dirt road and into the dead weeds that grabbed at his tattered jeans.

"Beth!" He hollered as she swayed on her feet.

He could hear shouting behind him and pushed his legs to move faster.

"Beth," he shouted again.

"Daryl?" Her voice broke as she said his name.

When she lifted her head to look at him, he realized how pale her skin looked beneath the streaks of blood. Her lips held no color and the underneath of her eyes were adorned with bruised shades of purple.

"What tha' hell happened?" He yelled, quickly closing the distance between them.

As soon as he was within arm's reach, she flung herself towards him and collapsed against his chest.

He caught her easily, steadying her before pulling back and brushing the loose hairs from her face that had been spared of the blood and guts that coated her like a second skin.

"Herds…comin'," she murmured as her eyes closed, "Stay out of…tha' woods. People…"

Her breathing evened out and her body went limp in Daryl's arms.

Glancing behind them, Daryl realized she'd been carrying Morgan's unconscious form within a sleeping bag. He was completely covered in walker entrails, even more so than she, and Daryl's eyes immediately zeroed in on the older man's arm.

"_Fuck_," Daryl wheezed when he realized that Morgan's arm _ended _directly below elbow; the stub wrapped in a blood soaked bandage.

"Dwight!" Daryl's voice taking a gruffer tone in his rattled state.

"I'm here," Dwight yelled behind him.

"Get him to tha' doc," Daryl glared over his shoulder.

Dwight, along with a few other men, wasted no time lifting Morgan from the ground by the material of his makeshift cot. They began moving back to the gates as nimbly as possible without jostling the man too much in his fragile state.

"Get tha' herders out here," Daryl called after them, sweeping one arm beneath Beth's knees and wrapping the other tightly under her arms, "There's another herd."

"Another one?" Dwight hissed ahead of him.

"Another one," Daryl repeated gravely.

As soon as they were within the walls, Daryl shifted Beth in his arms, gripping her so tightly that he feared he would leave bruises on her skin of his hands. People with rifles were running past him, back towards the gates, and he could hear the pounding of hooves a few streets over. He spotted Rick, rushing up to Morgan as they carried him down the street, towards the doctor's house. A moment later he was glancing back at Daryl and his eyes dropped to Beth's unconscious form.

"What tha' hell happened?" Rick's voice was deep, almost a sneer.

"She passed out 'fore she could tell me," Daryl didn't slow his pace as he spoke, "Said somethin' about 'people.'"

"She say anything 'bout Maggie an' Glenn?" Rick asked as he kept up with Daryl's pace.

Daryl shook his head.

He had no idea what had happened to them, but a few things were evidently clear. Byron's death was _definitely_ not a suicide attempt. The first herd, as well as the one currently shambling toward them, had not found their way to Alexandria by accident. Someone had directed their path. Someone was targeting their community. However, it was Beth's final statement before passing out that had told him everything he needed to know.

_There were people in the woods._

…

**A/N: **In case anyone is confused, The Hilltop (run by Maggie and Glenn) and The Kingdom are both communities like Alexandria, though smaller.

So the reference to Maggie calling Hershel 'baby', as in using baby to replace his name when she's talking to him, is a conversation I actually had with my 4 year old. The punk kept correcting me when I called him baby (in place of his name). *sigh* They grow up so fast…

Also, Hershel's middle name, **Everett**, is a shout out to TWD Games by Telltale (see **Lee Everett** from season 1). Morgan's arm amputation is also a shout out to one of the possible outcomes Lee has on the game!

"He never gave up on me," Beth stated, "Which is why I'll never give up on him." Yup…completely foreshadowing the end of this chapter! Just in case you missed the importance of that line!

Cooper is Australian. Love me some Aussie's! : P Hopefully you could imagine the accent!

By the way, I am not a smoker. I've never smoked in my life…so being the detail freak that I am, I literally googled if anyone had a description of 'how smoking makes you feel.' Lol. I know everyone is different, some say it feels great and others say they hated it, but I read several people's posts and went with the most common response. So if any of the details are inaccurate, sorry!

Annnndddd there you have it! I've been working towards this chapter for several chapters now! So excited for you guys to finally get here with me! Totally twisting the comics here! You didn't think things would get easier just because they have a safe place to live now did you? I mean…it's The Walking Dead universe we're talking about here! : ) Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It's probably my fave so far! Leave me some love! XOXO


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